I Loved You First
by Virgo Alien
Summary: A look into the thoughts of a group of people involved in the ending and beginning of relationships.
1. Beca: What is Happening?

A/N: The story is written in second person. _Treat i__talicized statements as first-person inner monologue,_ "and quoted statements as verbal dialogue." Each chapter is written from only one particular character's point of view. Lines represent a (brief) lapse of time, or the story's beginning or end after or before an note from me.

**2016 EDIT**: Rewritten to make it just a tad more readable. The plot doesn't change though.

* * *

Fresh from your championship win at the ICCAs, you're currently joining your fellow nerds—because face it, you're one of them now—at a Manhattan club reserved for this particular occasion. Earlier, you had wondered how a celebratory party had been planned and prepared within minutes of the announcement, but Aubrey explained that it was yet another facet of a cappella of tradition: all finalist groups chip in for a huge party in New York.

To this day, it surprises you how a cappella singers are the biggest party animals you have ever encountered in your short life. Even your uptight captain ranked above the average.

_Speak of the devil_—

"Beca!"

You're put down your mostly-Coke Rum and Coke on the bar as Aubrey approaches you with an odd but familiar look on her face. You recognize it as the nervously excited expression she had that night you did the mash up at the pool.

_Oh yeah, it's the breaking-out-of-my-shrink-wrap face… only a drunker version of it._

You were half expecting this, the clichéd ending to a rivalry where the traditionalist apologizes and thanks the newcomer. You already prepared your snarky, don't-worry-about-it reply.

But she's blurting out a string of insults instead that catch you by surprise—

"—arrogant, lazy, no respect for authority—!"

_Gee, tell me how you really feel._

You raise your hands in an attempt to shut her up and get an explanation for her sudden mental breakdown, but she shushes you and gives you a glare that clearly says, "Let me finish," so you let her.

"—annoyingly talented, generous—and as much as it drives me up the wall to admit, you are undeniably sexy."

_Wait, sexy? How drunk is she_—_?_

But wait, that's not all!

"I want to have my way with you in the bathroom of this club until I have you screaming louder than the shit this place calls music."

_Good taste in music, check. Wants to have sex, check._

You're thinking it's just sex—_and I'm only agreeing to it because I'm horny as fuck_—and worse things have happened than succumbing to a momentary lapse of judgement, but on the way to the bathroom, she's apologizing for being a bitch to you the whole year and something about you changing her perspective...

_Or something like that... I can't really concentrate. Hey, blame my ten-month dry spell!_

* * *

_What is happening?_

An hour ago you were celebrating with the Bellas—_well, alone at the bar but you were _with_ them in spirit_—after winning the ICCAs.

An hour before _that_, you were kissing Jesse.

And now, at this party in a bathroom stall of some club in Manhattan, you're kissing the person you swore months ago you could murder. Like, actually murder.

_Aubrey Posen._

Making out with two different people in one night?

_Again, worse things have happened..._

But at this moment, with her tongue battling yours for dominance—_no surprise there_—and your hands on that sexy curve of her waist, you really couldn't care less for justifying what's going to happen tonight.

_But this could really get messy..._

You feel her hands move from your neck to your hair and tug indignantly, letting your hair loose down your shoulders.

_Not what I had in mind, but—ouch—okay._

Despite the potential for this to cause much drama—_which I loathe—_you find yourself just letting it happen. You're not denying it feels incredible; so much better than the gentle, chaste kiss you had earlier with Jesse. Then again, the pent up frustration and tension—_which I now realize... is of the sexual persuasion_—between you and the Bella captain may have something to do with how quickly things are heating up.

You go at it for a while longer until you both feel the urge to take "it" further. She's pulling your shirt out of its tuck and you're pushing her blazer off her shoulders when you suddenly stop for reasons you would hate to admit later on for fear of being called a softie.

"Wait. Not here."

_God, I hate myself for being so damn chivalrous even when I'm this turned on. _

As well you should.

She gives you such a hard look that you can practically hear the "_Are you fucking serious, Mitchell?_" but you nevertheless start fixing your shirt and motion her to do the same.

Despite your calm, robotic movements, you are still _horny as fuck_. A certain part of your body is throbbing angrily (presumably at you) but you sort of knew the moment you walked into the bathroom that this was _not_ the ideal place to get off.

And you kind of want to drag the whole thing out as tortuously and as pleasurably as you can.

When you're both decent, you open the stall door slowly to check if the coast is clear and exit the bathroom nonchalantly. On your way out, you're also thinking that, if this is Aubrey's way of releasing all the tension and thanking you for the win—_okay, maybe I'm reaching too far with the second one—_then she deserves to do so in a place much better (and cleaner) than a bathroom stall at some club.

The two of you inconspicuously leave the club, which proves easier than expected—_no one can see us through these obnoxious strobe lights anyway_—and head to the hotel for privacy. That doesn't mean you don't get to playfully kiss Aubrey's neck every now and then and let her dry hump you against the elevator walls.

_That, ladies and gentlemen, is Aubrey Posen after more than a few Long Island Iced Teas._

"Not in my room, Chloe's studying for a test," she whispers against your ear.

_Poor Chloe. Whoever scheduled the ICCAs on a Sunday should burn in hell._

So you lead her to the room opposite hers, your shared room with Amy. You assume the Australian is the type to be out partying most of the night, given the crazy stories she'd been sharing throughout the year, but you put on the 'Do Not Disturb' sign anyway.

A second later you're pushed up against your closed door and every corner of your mouth is being explored by Aubrey's tongue. The hot and wet sensations in your mouth start spreading (again) to the area between your legs.

_Fuck. Aubrey is a good kisser. At this rate_—

In typical defiant fashion, you refuse to submit to the blonde and push her onto your bed forcefully. You climb onto the twin bed and straddle her, trapping her arms above her head with one hand and sucking on her neck while slowly unbuttoning her jeans with your other hand.

She moans loudly and you amuse yourself with the idea that, for once, it's not out of frustration over your insistence that she change the set list.

You peel her jeans down slowly and trail wet kisses along every newly exposed bit of skin.

* * *

You continue your shenanigans throughout the night, exploring every delicious part of your former 'enemy' and allowing her to do the same to you. You would have thought that after the second round of orgasms—_I mean, __you're welcome, Aubrey_—that she would fall into a drunken stupor, but instead she'd sobered up and you are both now lying side-by-side, naked under the sheets of your tiny hotel bed.

If Aubrey had fallen asleep you could have at least sneaked out, maybe spent the night in Aubrey's room instead, helping Chloe study, and just let things unfold on their own in the morning. But now you actually have to _talk_ about what happened.

You risk a sideways glance and catch her doing the same. You both chuckle, and you're a little embarrassed.

"So…?" You began the word as a statement but it ends as a question.

"Yeah…" she nods, as though it's just an everyday occurrence, having sex with her... whatever you are to her at the moment.

Then you get to wondering why this doesn't feel as awkward as you thought it would be. It actually feels kind of nice. The sex was grade-A fantastic, there's no doubt about that. And the post-sex experience wasn't bad, either. No regrets, just... a hint of maybe wanting to do it again some other time.

Beca Mitchell and Aubrey Posen, who would have guessed?

_I guess all the bullshit about opposites attracting is true._

If this is how the night ends then you're at least glad it doesn't end with the predictable guy-gets-the-girl ending. Although you wished you could have spared Jesse the kiss and heartbreak—_what? That's believable, he's had a thing for me the entire year!—_you don't regret Aubrey confessing her feelings an hour ago, even if it was in an aggressively drunk sort of way...

_Wait a second_—_did she actually even confess anything?_

* * *

A/N: Writing in multiple first and second person is an easy way to get you to understand the personalities (and quirks) of each of the characters, while still allowing a plot to unfold. I tried to be as true to the franchise as possible but if I stray, then forgive me for injecting my literary interpretation of the character.

**2016 EDIT**: I really didn't like the way the first chapter came out and I think it's because I wrote Beca as being so out-of-character. There's also another reason that I'll get to later.


	2. Aubrey: Part of Your World

**2016 EDIT: **I decided to bump the rating up to an M because of this chapter. It's really not that smutty, though.

* * *

_Is this really happening?_

Beca is on top of you, slowly peeling away your skintight jeans and kissing the soft skin between your legs. You try to resist the urge to spread them, to resist grabbing her head and forcing her to where you're aching the most for those kisses.

Well, at least you succeeded in not grabbing her head.

"Look who's excited," she smirks at you from between your open legs.

_God, I'm going wipe that stupid smirk off her face!_

"Don't be a fucking tease, Mitchell."

She crawl back up to pull your tank top off and you let out a growl because—

_I shouldn't be the only one naked here._

You wrap one leg around hers and push with your free arm, expertly flipping your positions.

_Those wrestling classes were useful after all._

You waste no time in stripping the brunette of all her clothes and attacking her neck. A part of you is channeling all previous animosity you had toward her, and the other half is genuinely enjoying the pleasure.

_It has been a while since… you know._

You get distracted and she mimics your previous move and flips you over again. You gasp in surprise at her strength—and also because she has finally touched you _there_.

"Fuck, you're so wet," she breathes. Her cockiness makes you blush and, for a moment, you think you're in over your head. She might have seen it in your face because next she whispers, "Just relax."

You've never felt so vulnerable in your life but as you let yourself do so, honestly, you feel great. You had no idea the little monstrosity—_I mean, Beca_—could be this gentle and dominating at the same time. You envy her ability to accomplish that with ease, but not too much because you're currently on the receiving end of it.

After you've gone a couple of rounds of getting each other to climax—_I'd like to say it was a draw but to be honest, she totally wins tonight_—you end up squished together side-by-side on the tiny twin bed.

After a pause you exchange glances and laugh it off.

"So…" she drawls.

"Yeah…"

You hope that one word is enough to express what was left unsaid tonight, namely, that the badass Beca Mitchell has destroyed the tightass Aubrey Posen.

_Poor choice of words there, Posen. I could have just said she's stolen my heart._

But destroyed would have been the perfect way to describe how you feel right now. Ever since Beca auditioned for the Bellas, everything you thought was true about life got turned on its head. The security and reliability of tradition failed you; perfection, it turned out, does not equal success. You found your principles shaken by this alternative, insanely talented girl who didn't even know what she was doing to you.

You also wanted so much to be as effortlessly talented as she was. After you reconciled your differences with the pool mash up and began preparing for the finals with Beca's help, you realized your jealously was slowly turning into admiration.

She broke through the cracks in your traditions, and brought spontaneity into your soul.

_Ooh, I like that line. I should tell her that someday._

Now you're thinking it'll get awkward, considering that she and Jesse are a thing; that you're both women who up until this point showed no attraction to each other whatsoever; that you have the Bellas to think about; the fact that you're graduating, and, wait, what's happening after tonight—

So, naturally, you start freaking out. You feel this sickening need to leave. You have to talk to Chloe and figure this out with your best friend—

"You're thinking too much, Posen."

You could practically _hear_ that smirk on her face.

"You're not thinking enough, Mitchell," you snap. "Don't you know how fucked up this is?"

"Why don't you tell me?" she replies sarcastically and you roll your eyes.

"Well, first of all, you have Jesse."

"I don't _have_ Jesse. That kiss was a mistake. I rushed into things and—"

"I don't believe it," you say quickly, before you let the idea give you hope. "I could you see your toner since the beginning."

"You mean _my dick_?" she laughs.

You want to be annoyed but her laugh is so charming—_funny how similar charming and insolent are to you_—that you just shove her shoulder with yours, which nearly knocks her off the bed.

"Are you sure you weren't just seeing green, Posen?" she teases.

You don't answer that because you're not sure either. At the Aca Initiation Night, you were definitely feeling anger because of the no-Treble rule, but lately you're finding yourself quite annoyed at Jesse for gaining her attention.

_He's nice, sure, but... well, is that all we want at the end of the day?_

Had you known Beca chose to sing 'Don't You (Forget About Me)' for him you might have given the brunette a piece of your mind.

So instead you just say, "Okay, then what about that fact that we're both—"

"I have no problems having sex with a woman," she says with a shrug. "I've done it twice in high school. Next?"

_So Beca's more experienced than I am… yeah, that's probably why she was so good._

"Wait, am I your first?" she raises herself up on her elbows to look at you seriously.

"I didn't think my military father would have approved," you say quietly.

It's true—you really _don't_ know how he would react, badly or not, but you'd still rather lean on the side of caution—but it's not the _whole_ truth. You also have never been attracted to another woman before Beca.

_There was that thing with Chloe but that doesn't count, technically._

You don't tell her that though.

"The world's changing, Posen," she says, leaning back into the pillow. "Maybe your dad is fine with this."

_Yeah, I don't think I'm ever telling my dad about this night in particular. But that reminds me…_

"Wait, why would I tell him about this?" you ask, trying to keep the slyness out your tone.

For once, Beca has nothing to say.

_Score one for Aubrey Posen!_

"Are you…" you nudge. "Do you want…?"

"Aubrey, you're speaking like those annoying teachers trying to get an answer out of a student," she snarls. "Just spit it out, whatever you want to say."

"Fine," you huff, irritated that she didn't play along to your clever mockery. "Do you think this _thing_ we have is going to turn into some sort of relationship that I'd eventually have to tell my father about?"

_Wow. What flawless delivery, Aubrey Posen! Excellent work!_

Yes, you like congratulating yourself. You ponder on whether that is because you crave approval and create it wherever there is none, while waiting for Beca to respond because it takes a moment before she does.

"I don't know. To be honest I thought you would be the one wanting the relationship."

"Me? Why me?"

"_You_ came on to _me_, remember?"

"That doesn't mean I wanted a relationship! I could have just been horny."

She laughs. You realize you've never really heard a genuine Beca Mitchell laugh before and you find it delightful. You smile at yourself, too, because you can't remember the last time you actually made someone laugh on purpose and not as the butt of a joke.

"I wouldn't blame you, Posen. I do have _all this_ going on," she gestures up and down her blanket-covered body.

_Chloe._

Her gesture suddenly reminds you of Chloe's sexual confidence. You wonder how your best friend next door studying for her Russian philosophy test would react if you announced that you were suddenly in a relationship with Beca Mitchell.

_She'd probably be smug and say, 'I asked you to warm up to her, but I never expected you to date her!' And then proceed to give Beca the 'hurt my best friend and I'll end you' talk._

As much as you love your best friend, you just know she would be annoying for the first couple of days. She'd tease you and Beca constantly and make innuendos about consummating your relationship.

That gets you to start thinking about the hypothetical relationship itself. Going on dates and being affectionate aren't things you would normally expect from Beca Mitchell.

_But then again, they're not things I'd expect from myself either_.

You never wanted the boring, Hollywood cliché type of relationship. You want something challenging, and Beca Mitchell had been your biggest challenge of senior year. You want growth. You could teach her to be more, well, respectful and structured and she could teach you to lighten up a bit—_maybe how to get that balance between gentle and intimidating._

And you've already proven that the sex would indeed be fantastic so there's no need to worry there. Maybe, just maybe… this thing could work.

"Earth to Aubrey?" she taps you lightly on your forehead with her knuckles. "Did my proposal fry your brain or something?"

"Wait—your proposal? You mean _you're_ asking _me_ now?" you say in disbelief.

"Well, I thought about it," she runs a hand through her hair and rests it behind her head. "Not as long as you did though—and my answer is sort of a 'why not' kind of thing, you know? It might be fun."

"Wow, 'why not' and 'it might be fun'? That really makes a girl feel special."

_Sarcasm must be a sexually transmitted disease._

"Calm your pits, Posen. You know I'm not into this romance stuff."

You nod, knowing (from Chloe's attempts at convincing you to give Beca a shot) all about the brunette's trouble with committed relationship, stemming from her parents' divorce.

"If we were to be in a relationship," she continues. "Let's keep it casual."

"I don't do hook ups, Beca."

You really don't. _It's stupid and someone's bound to get hurt in the arrangement._

"Not what I meant. We can keep it exclusive but… I mean, let's just not…"

Patience was never your strong suit so you say, "To quote you, _just spit it out!_"

She sighs. "I kind of wanna say… no feelings? But I know that's not fair to either of us so… ugh, I just want a guarantee that I won't get hurt, okay?"

Beca's confession reveals how vulnerable she really is, and it softens your sometimes-cold heart. You surprise the both of you by taking her hand and squeezing it.

"I know I've said and called you a lot of mean things this year—" You pause to give Beca the chance to snort. "—but I would never intentionally hurt you, Beca. I meant it earlier when I said you've changed my rigid, boring world by mixing it up with yours, and I want to be a part of—"

_Damn, that sounds—_

"A part of your world?" she snickers from beside you. "Really, Ariel?"

"Shut up, I was trying to be serious!"

"Oh, this is going to be an interesting relationship…"

You smile to yourself. Your hand is still entwined with hers and it feels nice.

"…babe."

"No cutesy nicknames."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Aha! I finally won one!"

"You're such a dork."


	3. Fat Amy: Playing Universe

A/N: I thought it would be inelegant to explain the term 'playing Universe' in the story so in case you don't pick up on it, it's Fat Amy's way of taking 'fate' (particularly others' fates) into her own hands. In other words, it's just her meddling. She assumes the role of Universe, from whom everyone asks for a 'sign.' The term is somewhat synonymous with 'playing God.'

**2016 EDIT: **I had no problems with the way Fat Amy's turned out haha. So I just fixed some typos I had missed.

* * *

"Leaving already?"

You spare Tank Top a glance before winking and blowing him a good-bye kiss.

"Sorry, boyo. Not interested."

_Slim pickings on the market tonight. Every guy in this club looks like they spend more time getting ready in front of the mirror than I do._

You miss the bars back in Australia, and the men. Australian guys didn't bother with games and being all charming or mysterious. They just went for it and that's how you like it.

You pat Cynthia Rose on the shoulder on the way out. You think she could do better than the tart she's currently chatting up but you're not in the mood to play Universe tonight.

The walk back to the hotel leaves you alone with your sober thoughts—_that's right, folks, I wasn't my usual party animal self tonight_. After all the excitement of winning the ICCAs, you kind of appreciate the quiet time.

You're happy that the Bellas won but you're also wondering to yourself, what's next for Fat Amy? You've never stuck with one hobby for more than a year. Mermaid dancing, bikini car washing, and animal wrestling—those were just a few of your many high school past times.

But you've come to love these twig bitches and kind of want to ride out the whole a cappella thing—cardio and all. So you think of other, smaller hobbies you could take up on the side to keep yourself from getting bored.

* * *

You arrive at your door just as the idea of setting up a food-fight club in the Barden kitchens after-hours pops into your head. Then you notice the 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging on the doorknob. You recall Beca cracking a joke about the sign this morning when you checked in and think—

_Whoa, is shorty actually feeding the kitten in there?_

Then you remember that your roommate kissed nerdy Treble boy earlier.

_But I'm pretty sure I saw him get on the Treble bus back to the airport._

So you press your ear against the door—_completely justified; it's my room, too, after all_—and you try to listen in on a muffled conversation between Beca and some other person.

_Well, at least she's not diddling herself. That would have been awkward._

You move your ear closer to the space between the door and its frame and hear: "Calm your pits, Posen. You know I'm not into this stuff."

Your mouth falls open before you could even catch it. The first thought that pops into your head is a dirty one—_into what stuff? S&amp;M?!_

Before you could mentally congratulate shorty on taming the shrew—_and bedding her_ (you love jumping to the best conclusions)—she speaks up again.

"If we were to be in a relationship…"

_Relationship?_

You couldn't hear the next bit because Beca had said it so quietly, but you were now ninety-nine percent sure that your captain and short stack just had sex and were now considering dating each other. (See what I mean about jumping to conclusions?) It's a dangerous assumption, but you know you're never wrong about these things.

_It's like I have ESP. Extra-sexual perception. The Sex-th Sense, if you will._

But even if you don't, what happens next gives you the remaining one percent.

The door to the room beside yours opens and a humming housekeeper exits with his cart. He freezes and looks curiously at you pressed against the door, and you respond with intense eye contact, hoping that you pass of as a weird statue instead of a creepy eavesdropper.

Surprisingly, instead of asking what the hell you were doing, he smirks and says, "You're too late. They were going _at it_ like animals in heat earlier! I swear, I think I ruined my underwear. They're just talking now, I think. Pfft—women, am I right?"

You scowl in disgust as he snickers and proceeds to clean the next room.

_Well, that proves it. Who's doing the horizontal jogging now, Cap? Oh, boy…_

That's when another thought that's been simmering at the back of your mind for a while gives you a painful, twisting feeling in your gut. You turn around and lean your back quietly against the door to stare at the one in front of you.

_Room 408. Aubrey and Chloe's room._

Inside that room was probably the second person in the world after Jesse Swanson who would be devastated to know what you just found out.

You don't have a super solid relationship with the redheaded captain—_what with commenting on being punished by God and asking if she had herpes—_but she's always been nice to you and, knowing what you know about her, you feel like she needs someone looking out for her tonight.

_Should I play Universe this one time?_

But you don't have a plan.

_But then I never do_.

But you have no idea how this is going to turn out.

_But then I never do_.

But could ruin things for everyone involved.

_But then I never do._

You run your hand through your hair before bringing it down in a fist to knock twice on the door opposite yours.

"Who's there?"

"It's the stripper you ordered."

_What? This night's going to get a whole lot of awkward, might as well start it light._

"Oh, just in time!" The door swings open to reveal a beaming redhead.

"'Sup, ginger?" you ask as you strut into the room.

"Studying for my Russian test tomorrow."

"Oh… hey, say something in Russian!"

_That should throw her off._

She says something that sounds like Klingon to you and then asks, "What can I do for you, Amy?"

"That's _Fat_ Amy to you, and uh, nothing in particular. I just wanted to hang out, you know, get to know all the Bellas." You swing your arms back and forth awkwardly.

"Funny, I thought we'd been doing that the entire year," she comments before plopping back down on her bed and taking a look at her notes.

"Right…"

"Where's Aubrey? Not that I mind hanging out with you, but maybe she'll have a better attention span for you tonight," she laughs.

_Not likely._

"Uh… erm…" Your mind blanks on a response.

Chloe puts her notes down and frowns at you. You're beginning to sound like that time you ran out of gas and Aubrey found out you had Bumper's number.

"Amy," she says slowly. "Where's Aubrey? And why are you here?"

It's your own fault for deciding to play Universe.

_Shut up, brain_. _Here it goes._

"Chloe, I have to tell you something but please don't freak out because I can't handle all that drama," you say quickly, waving your arms wildly to indicate the impending drama.

"What? What's going on? Is Aubrey okay?"

"Aubrey's fine. She's in my room."

"Oh," a look of confused relief passes over her face. "Did she pass out or—?"

"She's in my room…" you repeat, "with Beca."

Her eyes lock on to yours and you notice her face turn slightly pale. Then she swallows.

"A-are they fighting again?"

You detect a hint of hopefulness. Normally you would reply with a funny, dirty comment like, "There's some biting and shoving, that's for sure," but in this case that would be totally inappropriate.

So you simply shake your head. "They are, according to the doorknob, not to be disturbed."

After a second, she rearranges her features to give a surprised but happy smile.

"Wow… _wow_. Well, that's—good for them, huh? Who would have thought—why are you looking at me like that?"

"Come on, Chloe, you don't have to hide your massive toner for short stack from me. Lesbi-honest."

"What?"

"Don't worry, I'm the only one who knows."

You've been noticing Chloe's interactions with Beca since your first day as a Bella. It started that freezing cold night of the initiation party with the other a cappella groups when you witnessed the redhead pull the freshman so close to her they were almost kissing. You also caught the wink Beca gave her and the ass wiggle Chloe graced Beca with later on.

At first you thought Chloe was just naturally touchy-feely so you didn't look much into the unusual interaction. But when you spotted Cynthia-Rose and Stacie at the keg and shared your insight with Aubrey about lesbians, you noticed her glance toward Chloe and Beca _first_.

Since then you've kept an eye out and realized that, while Chloe was indeed touchy-feely, none of the other Bellas including yourself and her co-captain has ever been on the receiving end of it nearly as much as Beca had. Chloe would always be really hands-on in guiding Beca through the choreography, not to mention the Sapphic amount of staring and lip biting that occurs whenever Beca speaks up or does something. You wonder why you're the only who's _ever_ noticed it.

* * *

"Wait, what about Jesse?"

Her question snaps you out of your musing and throws you off because it never crossed your mind to wonder about how Treble boy might react to this.

"I don't... know?"

"And how do you even know Beca and Aubrey are together? What if she just put up the 'Do Not Disturb' sign because they didn't want to be disturbed during a normal conversation?"

Chloe is starting to get on the offensive—_or is it defensive?_

"I overhead Beca talk about a relationship. It sounded like she was setting some ground rules."

"That doesn't mean it's a sexual relationship! That doesn't make sense. Why would she kiss Jesse and then get together with Aubrey?"

Chloe gets off her bed to stand right in front of you with her hands on her hips. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her face red, like during the first practice after you found out the Bellas were still in the finals and massive shit—and not to mention vomit—hit the fan.

"I don't know, Chlo, I'm just telling you what I heard—" you say half-truthfully. You don't tell about what Pervert the Housekeeper said.

"Well, I'm going to need a better explanation than that," she heads toward the door and before you know it, you've tackled her to the ground.

Great plan.

"_Amy! _What the hell!"

"Don't do it, ginge!" you whisper-yell, hoping it gets her to lower her voice as well. If someone (Aubrey) finds you in her room, it wouldn't be easy to explain why you didn't enter your own room right across the hall.

She tries to scramble out from under you but somehow ends up just getting even more stuck.

"Get _off_ me!"

"You'll only get hurt if you open that door!"

"Why would I get hurt, we don't know if anything's even going on!"

"All right, fine! The housekeeper overheard them doing it like animals in heat okay?"

You don't mean to be so blunt and vivid, but her knee _is_ digging painfully into your ribs. She stops struggling for a moment, relieving your pain, and you raise yourself up on your elbows to look down at her.

"I'm sor—"

She takes advantage of the freed up space and pushes your shoulders roughly. You roll off her and bump your knee painfully against the leg of the bed.

_Fuck me!_

Now free from your pin, Chloe makes a move toward the door but she doesn't know that even on the floor you've got mermaid-like reflexes. You grab a hold of her ankle and effectively root her on the spot. She tries shaking you off but you know that's never going to happen.

"Let me _go_!"

"I've wrestled dingoes and crocodiles simultaneously, Chloe!" you remind her. "You know you can't win!"

Recognizing defeat, ginger groans in frustration and slumps down to sit on the floor beside you. She covers her face in her hands and leans her head back against the wall.

You struggle as you push yourself into an upright position and sit side-by-side with her.

"Look, I'm sorry, but it's for the best," you say between pants. "And just out of curiosity, though, what were you planning on doing after barging into the room? Yell at them for having sex? Would you have yelled at Jesse after kissing Beca?"

Only a moment ago Chloe was studying without a care that Beca had kissed Jesse but now she learns that Beca has done the deed with Aubrey, the redhead is flipping out. It makes sense to you why that is, but you want to hear it from Chloe herself.

"I wasn't surprised by Jesse," she explains in a huff after a while. "I knew he had a thing for Beca ever since, I only hoped she wouldn't be roped into that predictable ending."

"So you're angry because you didn't know Aubrey secretly liked the girl she used to refer to as 'the monstrosity?'"

"I'm not angry."

"My ribs and knee would disagree with that. You didn't have to fight me so hard."

"I was okay with Jesse," she says distractedly but with conviction, ignoring your comment. "Fine, you're right. I like Beca. But I was okay with her being with Jesse in the end because… it only validated the fact that Beca's not gay, so she could never be with me anyway. But knowing that she's over there right now with Aubrey… that she could _like_ like a girl? It makes me wonder if she secretly liked Aubrey all this time.

"At least if she were with Jesse, I still could build this fantasy world where she and I were happy together. But now, that fantasy world is _real_—she's open to being with a girl—but she's still not with me after I... after I tried to show her how great we could be together. And I feel like an idiot for even thinking she could ever like _me_, for thinking I'd be her first choice. What if it was Aubrey all along?"

She sighs and shakes her head.

"It's just me and my crazy feelings. And the thing is, I can't even be mad. I don't have the right to be, but I am! It isn't as though Aubrey stole her from me; Beca was never mine to begin with, and Aubrey never knew about my crush. Beca is free to like whoever she likes… I guess I'm just confused as to why it's Aubrey of all people."

"Chloe, we both know it's more likely that Aubrey was the one who made a move than Beca. The little shorty is a pocketful of awkward when it comes to feelings. She never would have had the guts to confess anything."

Chloe looked thoughtful for a while. You think she's mulling it over and considering it. But then you realize that was probably _not_ a good idea—

"Then that means…" She sits up straighter and turns to you seriously. "Beca was probably surprised, too! Amy, do you think I could have had a chance if I told Beca how I felt sooner?"

"Oh, hey, Red," you backtrack. "I don't think it's a good idea to get into hypotheticals…"

"Why not?"

"It only ever leads to regret. Like once back in Tasmania, I seriously considered the idea of being related to Michael Jackson but my mum told me we weren't and I was depressed for days."

She pauses and mouths "Okay" before resetting her features into a look of determination.

"Anyway, if _Aubrey_ came on to Beca then there's a chance Aubrey was just looking for a release, and Beca was just confused about all this and gave it a try! Maybe Bree doesn't even want a relationship! If I—"

"But, Chloe, do you really think Aubrey would go to Beca knowing about her thing with Treble boy if she didn't _really_ want it? Would she do that to him? To Beca? Would you?"

As much as you hate drama, you absolutely love the opportunity to say dramatic things like these.

"_I _wouldn't. But Aubrey _always_ gets what she wants, right?" she says bitterly.

"So what's your plan? You're going to barge in there and confuse Beca even more by telling her you have feelings for her—'ditch Treble boy, forget you had sex with my best friend, and ride off into the sunset with me?'"

She frowns, probably realizing the giant flaws in her plan.

"Look, I know it sucks," you continue. "And I can't even imagine how much it hurts but… I think you should wait and see if this thing between Beca and Aubrey is real enough for you to fight or learn to back away from—"

"But wouldn't it be easier if I just go ahead and take matters into my own hands?"

"Yeah it would, if you're only concerned about yourself. But they deserve a chance to see their relationship through."

"They deserve a chance?" she repeats in disbelief. "If anyone deserves anything, Amy, it's me! Aubrey treated Beca like _shit_ most of the year while I did nothing but love both of them for who they are! I let Aubrey walk all over me and Beca belittle me because I thought... because I _knew_ they didn't mean it. All I'm asking for is a little fucking appreciation!"

Her eyes are shining with tears of anger now. You feel guilty because you never realized that Chloe works hard to keep the Bellas together, especially with a tyrannical Aubrey and an insubordinate Beca.

"We do appreciate you," you say softly. "And nobody deserves to be hurt this way but the reason I thought to tell you this is not because I want you to get pissed and fight over Beca, but because I hoped it would give you enough time to prepare to, you know, move on."

"Move on? Amy, I was already moving on!" she shrieks, loud enough to convey her emotions but not enough to be heard through the walls, you hope. "I'm hoping to graduate soon so I was readying myself to forget about Beca but then _this_ drags me back and punches me in the gut! And Aubrey's leaving, too, why the hell would she even—and Beca's just going to end up heartbroken!—meanwhile I have to spend my last two months at Barden trying to feel happy for my best friend for getting the girl I've fallen in love with when I can never be happy for that!"

She lets out a strangled cry after that rant.

You don't know what to do or say. You've experienced plenty of drama before but none like this, none where the rug gets pulled so harshly from under someone's feet. So you stay silent for a while, allowing her to take the deep breaths she needs to calm down.

* * *

"Is this still God punishing me because I'm a ginger?" she asks jokingly with a watery smile.

"I'm really sorry, Chloe. Should I not have told you?" you honestly wonder out loud.

"I don't think finding out myself would've hurt any less," she shrugs, wiping away a stray tear. "I guess it's better this way so I can plan out my next move, huh?"

You nod, not taking your eyes off the redhead's face. "Look, if you need anyone to talk to," you offer. "I promise I won't make inappropriate jokes."

She smiles and shakes her head. "Thanks, but maybe inappropriate jokes are just what I need right now."

"Phew, because honestly I don't know how to empathize with you. The only time I've ever been stuck between two girls and a guy was at an orgy in Whynot, Mississippi."

She breathes out a scandalized laugh and nods her head.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

She rises from the floor and shrugs, "I have no reason not to be."

You accept her outstretched hand and allow her to help you get up. "You do, you know. You don't have to—"

Just then, your supersonic hearing catches a door clicking shut. It's yours from across the hall. A second later a beep sounds and the door behind you opens slowly, revealing Aubrey.

"Amy!" she says in surprise. "What are you doing here? Why aren't—I didn't see you leave the club when—when I did."

"I was, uh..." You can't think of anything quick enough to explain why you would be in the room across the hall instead of in yours.

Fortunately, Aubrey glances between you and Chloe and forgets her question when she sees her roommate's red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She immediately rushes forward to rub Chloe's shoulders comfortingly.

"Chloe! What happened, are you okay?"

"I'm fine now," Chloe smiles weakly. "I was just stressing over this test. If I fail, I don't get to graduate. I called Fat Amy to cheer me up. I would have called you but you deserve to celebrate tonight and I didn't want to bother you."

You give Aubrey a slightly panicked smile when she turns to nod at you gratefully for cheering up her best friend. When she turns back to Chloe you give the redhead an incredulous look.

_She's a fantastic liar. Even I bought that._

"Well, I'm here now," Aubrey says firmly grasping Chloe's shoulders. "Granted, I'm a little tipsy but I can still help you study. And _you_—"

She turns to you and you show your teeth again.

"You are relieved of your duties, Fat Amy. Go back to the club and have fun! It's only—" she checks her wristwatch "—twelve-thirty? Jeez, we're getting too old for this shit."

"All righty then." You swing your arms back and forth again. "I'm ready to tear up Manhattan… uh, Chloe, just remember what I said, yeah? _Prepare_ your… notes well so you can _graduate_ with as little pain as possible."

Aubrey looks at you in confusion but says nothing. Chloe nods and mouths a 'thank you' before turning back to her bed and notes. Aubrey follows you to the door and thanks you again.

"Have fun out there! See you in the morning," she waves.

"Good night, Aubrey."

You lean against their door this time and stare at your own. The 'Do Not Disturb' sign is still hanging on the knob and you wonder if Beca will ever remove it.

_Well, I did my job playing Universe for these aca-weirdoes. Now I just have to wait it out and see what happens. If anything, I think I just saved their friendship._

You just finish deciding to hit the hotel bar instead of going back to the club to sip tequila sunrises until the actual sunrise comes when suddenly you realize you've forgotten to tie the loose ends of one key player in the game: Treble boy Jesse Swanson.

* * *

A/N: If you noticed, Fat Amy has virtually no _inner monologue_ during the rising action and climax. That represents times when Amy is speaking her unfiltered thoughts, which is how she is humorously portrayed in the film. There are times she can be reflective (e.g. when she's alone, when she's plotting) but her silliness remains, to a point where she has internal conversations with herself.


	4. Jesse: (Forget About Me)

A/N: Additional formatting: **text messages are in bold**, "_dialogue that occurs over the phone are italicized and within quotation marks,_" and due to the length, a horizontal line can also mean a short pause to keep you on track of where you are.

I changed the summary because I felt it narrowed the meaning of the story to just one character.

I also respond to a Guest's review in the ending A/N because I can't in private. Thanks for the reviews, by the way! :)

* * *

You raise your fist in the air and bite your bottom lip to keep you from grinning so much.

"You're doing it again," Benji comments, not looking up from his Star Wars video game.

"Sorry, I'm just so…" You end the sentence in a giddy, love-struck sigh that you're not ashamed to emit.

_I still can't believe I got the girl. She's so worth the wait._

You're sitting beside Benji on the 10PM flight back to Atlanta instead of celebrating the Bellas'—_and your new girlfriend's_—ICCA win. You wish you could just skip the presentation tomorrow that's worth a third of your grade but Benji wouldn't have it. Apparently your roommate is taking it upon himself to be your academic life coach or something.

"And can you _not_ look so happy that we lost to the Bellas?" Kolio says in amusement from the seat on Benji's other side.

You just smile and shrug in response. Sure, you're bummed that the Trebles didn't get to continue their winning streak but you're also really proud of Beca for leading the Bellas to the top.

_And I have three more years to kick my girlfriend's aca-ass!_

While you felt that the Trebles' arrangement was more elegant, the Bellas' mash up medley was a definite crowd-pleaser—not to mention Beca _killed_ with 'Don't You (Forget About Me).'

_God, she's so talented. And she's into me. How lucky am I?_

You lean your head back against the seat's headrest and put on your earphones. You play your song—_because 'Don't You (Forget About Me)' is definitely going to be our song from now on—_on repeat. In your head you start planning for your first date—_dammit, I forgot to ask if she's free tomorrow_.

* * *

You arrive in Atlanta ten minutes ahead of schedule, and you only remember to switch your phone back on when you're in the cab ride to the campus dormitories. You're not that surprised by the inflow of messages, but you are surprised to see that they're not from Beca.

**DUDE.**

**DUDE!**

**Oh wait. You're on the plane.**

**Call me when you land!**

"Hey, did Donald text you guys, too?" you ask.

_Maybe there was some sort of mix-up and the Trebles actually won the ICCAs!_

Benji and Kolio check their phones and shake your head. You guess it's not Treble-related so you decided to call him up once you and Benji have settled down in your room.

* * *

"Hey, man, what's up?" you ask, plopping down on your bed comfortably, half an hour later.

"_Dude_," you hear Donald breathe through the phone. You notice the lack of background club music on his end. "_Did you hook up with that Beca chick_?"

"Uh, _no_. I flew back to Atlanta, remember? You dropped us off at LaGuardia?"

Benji hears this and looks over at you with a half-amused half-concerned expression and asks, "Is he drunk?"

You shake your head. Donald wasn't slurring his words, anyway.

"_No, no, I meant like, you kissed, right? After the Bellas' performance_?"

"Uh, yeah."

You don't really feel comfortable talking to Donald about your personal life. Even if you _had_ seen the dude in a skimpy bathing suit sharing a hot tub with six other men.

"What's this about, Donald? Do you have a rule against dating Bellas, too?"

"_No, man, it's just—are you sure she's not gay?_"

The question throws you off but you jump to the most logical conclusion.

"What? No! I mean, no, she's not. That's just the way she dresses—she's totally into guys."

You don't know why you said the last part. It suddenly feels like you're being defensive.

"_Hey, man, I really don't want to tell you this but I'm just looking out for you, ayt?_"

Your heartbeat quickens. A million thoughts run through your head but you say nothing and wait for Donald to continue.

"_I saw your girl running off with Posen earlier. They seemed to be getting it on, man. Neck kissing and stuff." _

It takes a second before you realize 'Posen' is Aubrey. The idea that Beca is hooking up with her terror of a captain—_and that she'd do that just hours after kissing me—_is ridiculous.

"Donald, are you drunk?"

"_No, man! I left the club early with Lilly. We were hanging out near their hotel and we saw them. They were really close, and then they kissed. Then Beca was kissing down Aubrey's—"_

You really didn't want to hear the end of that sentence and have its image in your head so you interrupt him.

"You said Lilly's with you? So she can vouch for you? Let me speak to her."

Benji starts to get curious about the conversation going on between you and Donald. He faces you and has this expectant look on his face, as though waiting for you to give him a blow-by-blow of your conversation.

Instead, you purse your lips and shake your head.

_This is not a conversation I want to have with Benji._

You need some peace and quiet—especially since you're about to speak to Lilly—and the noise from Benji's Star Wars game is just too distracting. You enter the dorm hallway, which has much less noise at midnight on a Sunday.

"_What Donald has told you is the truth,_" a quiet, therefore unmistakably Lilly's, voice says through the phone. "_Unless either one had changed her mind since we saw them enter the elevators, Aubrey and Beca are, by now, in bed together."_

You feel sick to the stomach. You don't want to believe them—_I trust Beca!_—but you also can't think of a reason Donald and Lilly would both want to ruin your relationship. Donald was a nice guy. Sure, he put up with Bumper the past four years, but he was harmless (and so was Bumper, anyway). You have much less assumptions about Lilly, but you don't see her gaining anything from this either.

The only thing to do is to call Beca and get the facts straight from her.

"_I'm sorry, man,_" Donald was back on the other end."_But we thought it would be best that you knew, straight up, what you were getting into."_

"Thanks, Don, but I think I'll call Beca before I jump to any conclusions."

"_That's cool, man. I hope she does the right thing and comes out—I mean—_"

"I get it, thanks again."

You hang up and immediately call Beca. It rings longer than the average number of times, and you resist the urge to make presumptions about what that means. But just when you think your call will turn into a missed one, Beca picks up.

* * *

"_Hey, Jesse._"

You register the tired tone of her voice. You detect a hint of nervousness, too, but you're hoping it's just your imagination running with what Donald just told you.

"Hey, Beca."

You realize you don't have a game plan. Asking 'Did you hook up with Aubrey just after we kissed?' seemed too aggressive and assuming, even if it is what you're dying to ask. So you decide to drag out the conversation in tiny bits.

"Uh, where are you?"

"_In my hotel room._" Her tone is noncommittal, which worries you.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"_Um, not really._" She doesn't elaborate.

You get an uncomfortable feeling. You're hearing her voice but not seeing her face, and you don't feel like you know the person behind the voice. That makes you think that you don't really know her at all.

"Oh. Are you with anyone? O-or just watching TV?" You add the second question because you're suddenly afraid of how she'd interpret the first one.

"_I'm with Aubrey._"

Your split-second reaction was first of relief at her being honest, and then anxiety that she has just confirmed your worst fear.

"Oh, did you two patch things up?" you ask in a falsely cheery voice.

There's a pause before she answers, as though she's thinking of how to reply.

_Or maybe Aubrey is coaching her on what to say._

That last thought made your temper rise slightly. You consider the idea that, if what Donald said were indeed true, then Aubrey Posen is some new breed of scum.

"_Jesse, we need to talk…"_

"Why? Did you have sex with Aubrey?" you croak.

Your tone is joking and normally you would have used a euphemism, but in this case you just want it plain and simple: did Beca cheat on you mere hours after you got together?

"_I'm sorry, Jesse._"

_That's as good as a yes._

You pinch the bridge of your nose—_I don't actually have a headache, it's just what I see people do in movies when they hear bad news—_and take a deep breath.

"Just tell me why. Were you drunk?"

"_Aubrey was a little past tipsy. I wasn't drunk,_" finally some emotion from Beca, even if it was faint: indignant.

"So this was all her fault?" you ask bitterly but also hopefully.

"_N-no, Jesse. It's not that simple._"

"What do you mean 'it's not that simple'? She came on to you _knowing_ you had a boyfriend! How does it not make this her fault?"

"_Jesse, we only kissed once,_" she says slowly as though reprimanding you for being overdramatic.

"What are you even saying, Beca?" you half-yell, aware that you're getting slightly hysterical. "Please don't tell me _you_ came on to her. Did our kiss mean nothing to you? Did singing _our_ song mean nothing to you?"

"_Jesse—_" You're starting to hate the way she says your name in that patronizing way. "Aubrey came on to me… but I didn't say no."

You frown, trying to make sense of what she just said. "So you consented. Did you even think about me once while you were—doing it?"

"_Of course I did. And like I said, I'm really sorry. I was just feeling… confused and __rushed__—"_

"I never rushed you into anything, Beca," you remind her. "I gave you space."

"_Not by you. Aubrey was… telling me all these things and—"_

"But you _didn't have to listen_!" you actually growl at her in frustration but keep your tone even. "That's what I don't get, Beca. You could have told her no and pushed her off. You knew we have something but you let Aubrey get into your head anyway and suddenly what we have means nothing."

There's a pause on the other end. Both the hallway and Beca's room are quiet enough that you hear a creaking on the bed.

_Aubrey's still there with her._

"Aubrey's still with you, isn't she?" you ask through gritted teeth.

You really don't want to be the jealous guy. You want to show Beca that you're different, that you won't leave her because of her mistakes. You will love her and all her scars, which is why you're shoving all the blame on Aubrey, the vile seductress with no respect for other people's relationships.

"_I told her to leave. We need to talk about us and not her._"

"Okay," you say. "Look, I'm going to need to process this, Beca, but after you explain everything to me we can work it out back here in Barden. We'll sit Aubrey down and tell her about us. You… you'll have to promise me you won't do it again, okay?"

You know that your last line is pathetic. Maybe Beca thinks so, too, because once again there's silence on the other line.

"_Jesse, I'm sorry, but I don't think you understand._"

"What don't I understand?"

"_I can't… go back to you._"

That hits you like a truck.

_Wait._

You wonder how, in a matter of hours, your world gets turned on its head, and the rug gets swept out from under your feet. Everything that's been building up comes crashing down—

_Wait!_

"You're choosing Aubrey?" you ask in a disembodied voice. You can't believe this is happening and it feels like someone else takes over your speech function while you rest in a corner licking your wounds.

"_Not_ really…?" she doesn't sound sure. "I_ am really, really sorry, Jesse. I never intended to hurt you. I know I'm being stupid and selfish, but it's probably better that we end whatever we had now because—_"

This was the most she has ever said since you called her, and you're not liking what she's saying. Her tone pisses you off as well. She's acting as though it's the right thing to do and she's the one doing it, as though you're the one at fault for trying to pursue something that was doomed to fail.

_And did she really just casually say 'whatever we had'? Did I mean that little to her?_

You're furious right now.

"What did Aubrey even say to you?"

"_This isn't about—_"

"Aubrey has to have something to do with it! She's the one that changed your mind! Beca, what did she say?"

"_She didn't say anything bad about you,_" she insists. "_She just made me realize that… she made me realize what I want._"

"And what you realized, was it that _I'm_ not the one you want? Or was it that _she_ was?"

"_That she was, but again it's not that simple,_" she says quickly. "_Jesse, you're a great guy. You're just not what I need right now._"

"Need? You said 'want' first."

"_I guess that's part of it. Maybe it shouldn't be about what I want, but what I need._"

"How am I not what you need, Beca?" you challenge. "And how is she?"

"_I really don't want to get into this, Jess—_"

"You owe me this, Beca. For once in your life, be honest with me about your feelings."

You hear her sigh and that does nothing to lighten your mood.

"_Okay, but can you promise you won't interrupt? I'm still reeling from everything and if you get your shots in… I might not be able to finish._"

This only tells you that Beca is still on the fence about everything, and that you still have a chance now that you can talk to each other alone—without Aubrey. You're not sure if you can avoid interrupting her but you want her to talk anyway.

"I can't promise I won't react at some points but I'll try my best. I really want to hear what you have to say."

"_Okay, that's fair. So… should I start at the very beginning?_"

"It's a very good place to start," you say instinctively and she chuckles.

You know she's got that teasing smirk on and she's back to the Beca you know. You wish you could just have this Beca and not the one that's giving you bad news.

"_So let's talk about… us._"

She takes a deep breath and begins.

* * *

"_After our fight, I watched your stupid Breakfast Club movie—_"

The corner of your lips curl slightly because despite all this Beca still finds the humor to diss movies.

"_And realized that I _do_ push away the people who care about me, because I don't want to get hurt the way my dad hurt my mom and me when he left. I thought that the less people there were to care about me, the less I would have to care about, and so the less chances of me getting hurt by them._"

You nod even though she can't see you. You sort of pieced together the puzzle long ago so her explanation doesn't surprise you. You knew Beca's parents were divorced since that day she told you on the quad, and her heavy eyeliner look and badass attitude were obviously her ways of dealing with it.

"_What I realized from the movie was that... I don't necessarily have to tear down all my walls, but I sure as hell wouldn't keep them up because I'm afraid of something my dad did. All those kids were dealing with something but they got perspective in detention. I realized nothing should be holding me back from my own happiness. _

_And a part of me wanted to be badass like that Bender kid."_

"You and me both," you chuckle, remembering how weeks ago you almost tried to act that way around Beca to see if she would bite. "Sorry, go on."

"_That's okay... I'm glad I made you laugh. Again, I'm really sorry._"

"How about we finish discussing this first and then we'll decide what happens next?"

You don't want to hear her apologies—not because you're angry but because they make everything sound so final and you'd rather nothing was yet.

"_Sure. So, anyway, after the movie I thought about you and, uh, about a potential 'us.' I was feeling really guilty because you were so nice to me throughout the year and I was a dick because of my issues, these stupid issues that were hurting the sweetest guy in the world and I… I realized that people _are_ going to leave, not because it's in their nature, but because I'll keep pushing them away. _

_You weren't going to hurt me, I know that now, and you never did anything to prove otherwise. So I wanted you back and this time I would be open to you. I would trust you with my deep, dark secrets because you deserve it, and I deserve it, too."_

You appreciate her words. It's true, you would never, ever hurt her. You and the whole universe know that, but it feels good that Beca finally knows it, too.

"So that's why you mixed 'Don't You (Forget About Me)' in the Bellas' performance, and why you kissed me after."

"_Yeah. I was ready to give us a chance._"

"What changed? Aubrey?"

"_Not at first. I promise you, Jesse, I came to all my own conclusions. I wasn't brainwashed by Aubrey or anything like that. She's… having her share of confusion, dealing with this._"

You don't have an ounce of pity for the Bella captain so you urge Beca to continue.

"_So, what changed… uhm, after you left for the airport we headed to the club Aubrey rented out for the celebration party. I was feeling pretty bored, the music sucked but the club DJ wasn't in the mood to have me take over so I went to the bar._

_I spent my time just thinking about my future, about going to LA and becoming a DJ—"_

You completely forgot about that. You wonder if she's made a decision on leaving at the end of the semester or staying at Barden.

"—_which obviously made me think about us. Becoming a DJ and working in LA has been my dream since I learned how to put music on my computer and mess around with it. I thought about the pros and cons of staying—_"

"I hope I was at least a pro in that."

"_Of course you were. You were the first. But a pretty huge con was that, if I don't do this now—go to LA and live my dream—I might never get to do it. Who knows what'll happen in three years? If I really want this to happen, I can't waste any more time. That means I can't have any… strings attached to Barden until I finish the semester._"

"Are you saying... you were going to break it off with me?"

"_I'm saying I would have given you a choice. We could be together until I had to go, or we could call it and… just be friends or something to save the heartbreak down the road._"

"So you've made your final decision? You're really leaving?"

You can't believe you were blindsided by something so obvious. Of course you knew Beca wanted to go to LA. But maybe you underestimated just how driven she was. Or rather, maybe you overestimated your relationship's rank on Beca's list of priorities.

"_I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it sooner. I know I mentioned it in the past but I never really talked to you about it seriously since… Well, it's not like I had the chance when we were fighting. But it's just something I really have to do. And that's what I was saying earlier, my two cents is that it might be better to end things now than let this develop into something more and get hurt later on._"

You would expect Beca to be the one to break it off cleanly and avoid the mess, but you also expect yourself to be the type to fight for love. But there was still a problem with Beca's explanation.

"And Aubrey fits into this how?"

"_Well, she suddenly approached me at the bar and told me how she felt about me. She was really tipsy and… uh, Jesse I really don't want to talk about this part."_

"Did she force you?" you ask, feeling angry again.

"_No, no… I sort of… wanted it, too._"

You shake your head, not in frustration, but in confusion.

"Why, Beca? Why, all of a sudden, are you attracted to your bitch captain who treated you badly your entire time at the Bellas?"

"_I never said I wasn't attracted to her, Jesse. But that's not the point—_"

"Beca, are you gay?"

"_I've been with both guys and girls, Jesse. I'm sorry that never came up but again, it's not like we've had the chance to talk that much. And I'm sorry that she caught me at a vulnerable time, but I'm mostly sorry that I hurt you in the process."_

"You were vulnerable? You said you weren't drunk."

"_Uh, vulnerable in a different sense,_" Beca sounds uncomfortable now. "_Let's just say it's been a while._ _I'm sorry—_"

"Save it, Beca. Apparently, you give out apologies about as much as you give out sex," you snap and hang up.

* * *

You lean against the wall and close your eyes, overwhelmed by the waves of anger and guilt crashing over you. You immediately felt guilty after practically accusing her of being a whore, which wasn't even close to accurate. But you justify it by thinking that you've been cheated on just because your girlfriend was horny and had no self-control. Not to mention this is the first you're hearing about her bisexuality.

Regardless, you promised you wouldn't be the type to hurt her. So you call her back, hoping she would answer. While waiting for her to answer you sink to the floor and pull your legs closer to your chest.

"Beca, I'm really sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it," you say stiffly but sincerely.

"_No, that's okay,_" she sniffs. Her voice is thick and your heart aches at the thought that you made her cry. "_I totally deserved it anyway. It was a terrible excuse for cheating on you._"

"Well, yeah," you mumble, not sure what else to say.

"_And_ _I would have told you about me, just so you know. I wasn't planning on keeping it a secret from you._"

"Okay."

There's an awkward silence. You feel your mind whirring with senseless thoughts and your heart has a dull ache. You fiddle with the frayed end of your jeans while waiting for something to happen. When Beca doesn't say something for a while you decide to go first.

"I can accept the fact that you're leaving for LA, and I appreciate that you were thinking of giving me a choice on how we would deal with it together... but since you said you can't come back to me, that means you're either choosing Aubrey or remaining single until you leave. So which one is it?"

"_Aubrey is okay with me leaving for LA, since she's leaving for Harvard anyway. We agreed not to take the relationship too seriously._ _I know it sounds like a fling but we both realized that we need each other to be ready for the next part of our lives._"

"And this has to be in the form of a relationship? Couldn't she just tell you what to do, like she always does?"

"_I'm feeling things, Jesse. Things I felt when I was around you... my mind and my__—__my heart are telling me this is what's right."_

It's clear in her voice that she's uncomfortable saying things she would normally roll her eyes at hearing. You wonder if you ever made her want to say those words about you.

"What can she give you that I couldn't?"

"_I don't want to hurt you, Jesse… so I don't think it's a good idea for me to answer that._"

"You don't want to hurt me, or you don't want to find out that I could also give you what she can?"

Her lack of a reply tells you that you hit a nerve.

"You see, that's what I don't get," you continue, knowing you have Beca trapped in a corner of silence. "You assumed you knew the future of our relationship. You made it become a choice between what I can offer and what Aubrey can offer, thinking they were both different and fixed. Then you made the decision, leaving me out of the loop while I was thousands of feet in the air, unable to get a say. So what it's coming down to is that, in your heart, you'd rather be with Aubrey than be with me—with or without LA."

You feel surprisingly calm coming to that conclusion. At the back of your mind it felt like the beginning of letting go of the girl you fell more and more in love with since you sang to her from your parents' car.

"But after what you told me, I don't doubt that you genuinely felt something for me. But I also realize that you're not the girl I thought you were. I thought I had you all figured out, and that we were perfect for each other. I thought I could be the guy that badass Beca Mitchell finally loved."

You are only now aware that a few tears have fallen softly down your cheeks and onto your sweater. They don't feel like tears of sadness. They don't feel like anything.

"But you're not the Beca Mitchell I envisioned in that picture perfect moment. You never were, because you're infinitely more complex than that. You're unpredictable.

I understand now that I actually did rush you. I did everything in the 'predictable movie' way—I pursue you, you turn me away, we fight, you realize you like me, we make up. I dug my own grave and in hindsight I guess I should have focused on being your friend than on getting you to be my girlfriend."

"_You didn't do anything wrong, Jesse,_" she says thickly and you hear another sniff. "_You were perfect. I don't doubt that we would have been great and happy together. And as much as I don't want it to be a choice between you and Aubrey, she needs me more. And I need her more, but that doesn't mean I didn't need you. You have already changed me for the better—hell, I managed to get through an entire movie because of you._"

You give a watery chuckle and sniff. You wipe at your eyes with your sleeve and take another deep breath before deciding that the conversation was over.

"I still don't know exactly what went down between you and Aubrey, and I probably will never fully understand you and your decisions, but I won't stand in the way of your happiness, Beca."

This is it. You're letting her go. After barely five hours of thinking you were the luckiest guy on Earth, you're bowing down and letting someone else make her happy. A part of you wants to fight harder, but a larger part is exhausted and emotionally spent.

"I probably won't be speaking to you for a while…"

_Or ever._

"_Yeah…_"

It's anti-climactic, you think, because you still don't really know what happened aside from the confirmation that Beca was leaving for LA, and the assurance that Aubrey could give Beca what she needs before she leaves. Oh, and that Beca never intended to hurt you. That has to count for something.

"I guess this is goodbye, Beca."

"_Uhm, Jesse… if you have questions, if you need closure… I promise I'll do my best to give it to you. I'm really sorry for what happened._"

"Yeah, okay. I'll think about it," you reply softly.

"_You wanted to be the guy that badass Beca Mitchell finally loved_," she says suddenly as though she had a moment of clarity. "_Aubrey wants to make sure that I'm able to. Good bye, Jesse._"

"Bye, Beca."

You bring your phone down from your ear and stare at the image of Beca on your screen. It was a candid photo of her at the radio station, smirking at a CD she was stacking.

_I was wrong. She _is_ the girl behind the voice on the phone, no matter what kind of news it's giving me. I don't think I could ever not love this girl._

You feel a spur of the moment text coming on and you don't stop yourself from sending it.

**I hope you learn something from how recklessly you handled my heart. I won't fault you for that because you never really understood what it meant to have it in your hands. I hope no one else has to feel this way. Take care Beca.**

You enter your room and find Benji already asleep, which is a relief because you don't feel like explaining everything. You change into sleep clothes and reach out for your earphones and iPod to distract yourself to sleep but change your mind. This is one time music won't make you feel better, it will only remind you of Beca. So you start a marathon of _The_ _Lord of the Rings_ until you fall into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

A/N: This chapter aimed to give partial closure to the whole Jeca relationship because I'm a bit of a stickler for keeping it realistic and believable. 'Partial' because I'm not satisfied with it yet, so if you'd like to share your comments/thoughts through the Reviews section I'd love to work them into the story if you want.

So far you've been in the minds of four characters, so I'll leave it up to you readers to form your own impressions about the characters. I know the first two chapters were very short and didn't reveal much but don't worry, you'll hear more from Beca and Aubrey soon.

Author's Hint (cause I can't help it): Beca wasn't being completely honest in this chapter.

Response to **Guest**'s review: Thanks, dude! I'm actually glad you felt that way about the pain (not that I'm sadistic) because it means I'm doing justice to the characters and their emotions. I don't want to give away much of the ending I had in mind but rest assured it will be painless. :)


	5. Aubrey: Juice Box Wine

A/N: This is an even longer chapter since it spans four days in story-time. It's _somewhat_ a filler of a few of one-shot-like stories for character exposition, but there are always relevant plot points, ties to other chapters, and more closure.

* * *

"You're such a dork."

"Whatever… Mitchell," you can't think of a decent comeback.

"Is this how you are in a relationship?" she smirks. "'Cause you're losing a lot of street cred fast."

"Aca-scuse me, I happen to be great at relationships."

"Lame expression aside, please elaborate at how great you are at relationships. How many have you had?"

You release your hold on her hand and turn to the side, propping your head on your now free hand.

"Well, there was Unicycle…"

"And how long did that last before he ran away scared?" she jokes, brushing a stray lock of your hair away from your face. Her surprisingly gentle act makes you blush.

"Shut up. It was after Pukegate."

"Oh, sorry," she apologizes, but then shrugs it off. "But hey, you redeemed yourself this year. You can move on from that now."

"I already requested they take the video off YouTube," you say. "But as long as I'm at Barden I don't think I can ever live that down."

"Well, it's a good thing you're graduating then," she laughs.

You nod, tracing the outline of Beca's fingers with yours.

"So speaking of that," Beca says slowly. "What's your—"

Beca is interrupted by her phone ringing. You both sit upright, wrapping the blankets around your naked bodies. You wonder who could be calling at an odd hour and worry for a fraction of a second if something happened to the Bellas at the club—

"Oh, shit. It's Jesse," Beca glances at the screen and then looks at you with an unreadable expression.

"Are you gonna tell him?" you whisper, even though she hasn't answered the phone yet.

"Uh," she gulps. "Yeah, I guess? I don't want to lie to him."

Every ring that goes unanswered increases your heart rate so you motion Beca to just answer the call.

"Hey, Jesse," she says warily.

You can't hear Jesse's side on account of the room's annoyingly loud air conditioner but you and Beca keep eye contact. You want to give her a sign of support or encouragement, but you know there's just fear in your eyes. You seriously think you might puke.

"In my hotel room," Beca says monotonously.

You glare at her for being emotionless and she jerks her shoulders wildly in an 'I don't know what to do!' expression.

"Um, not really."

You tilt you head but Beca's distracted by something Jesse's saying that she breaks eye contact with you for a brief moment.

"I'm with Aubrey," she looks back at you.

_Now I'm really curious about what's happening on the other side of the conversation._

You motion Beca to put it on speaker but she shakes her head, looking scandalized. She puts a finger to her lips to shush you.

"Jesse, we need to talk."

Your jaw drops slightly.

"_Already?_" you mouth at her, and she nods her head determinedly, looking blankly at the space beside your head.

Hey eyes widen at whatever Jesse said.

"I'm sorry, Jesse," she says, her eyes beginning to water.

You take her hand again and squeeze it.

"Aubrey was a little past tipsy. I wasn't drunk," she says indignantly. You raise an eyebrow at her.

_Is she blaming this on me?_

"N-no," she says, noticing the look on your face and shaking her head. "Jesse, it's not that simple... Jesse, we only kissed once," she rolls her eyes and you shake your head at Beca's lack of respect for the meaning of a kiss.

Apparently Jesse feels the same way because you clearly hear his next words.

"_What are you even saying, Beca?"_

You hear the anger, hurt, and disappointment in the young Treble's voice and your stomach churns with guilt when you realize you're the home-wrecker in this relationship. You let go of Beca's hand and wrap your arms around yourself in shame.

"Jesse—" It's Beca's turn to grab and squeeze your hand. She looks into your eyes and says, "Aubrey came on to me… but I didn't say no."

When she says the last part, the corner of her mouth curls upward and you understand that she's assuring you that she wants this, too. You return the smile.

"Of course I did," she says earnestly. "And like I said, I'm _really_ sorry. I was just feeling..." She waves her hand around thinking of the right words. "Confused and rushed—"

"Not by you," she assures Jesse after he apparently interrupted.

You point to yourself and mouth, "Me?" but you're not hurt by it.

_After all, I did rush her._

"Aubrey was..." she gives you an apologetic grimace. "Telling me these things and—"

"_But you didn't have to listen!_" you hear from the other end.

You give her a look that says, "He has a point." She gives you an annoyed look but smiles when she rolls her eyes. Then a serious frown begins to form on her face.

She looks at you, cups her hand over the phone's microphone and whispers every so quietly, "I think you should go. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

You nod and get off the bed slowly so as not to make so much noise. You fail, though, and the bed makes an unnecessarily loud creak.

_Damn this hotel._

"I told her to leave. We need to talk about us and not her," Beca says. She's now sitting on the edge of her bed with her back facing you. You finish putting on your clothes and leave the room.

* * *

You rifle through your purse to find the key card to your room. You decide not to knock just in case Chloe had fallen asleep while studying. When the door beeps open, however, you are surprised at the scene you are witnessing: Fat Amy standing with her back to you, smacking dust off her ass.

"Amy! What are you doing here?" you shut the door behind you. "Why aren't you—"

'_In your own room?_'_ Do I _really_ want her to go over there, see a naked Beca, and start asking questions?_

"—I didn't see you leave the club when—when I did," you amend.

"I was, uh," the Australian mumbles, probably embarrassed to have been caught smacking her ass.

_But then Amy is never embarrassed._

You turn to your best friend and are surprised by the familiar look of a recently-crying Chloe: teary eyes, reddish nose, and trails of dried tears on her cheeks. You immediately go over to comfort her by rubbing her shoulders because you know how much she likes human contact.

"Chloe! What happened, are you okay?"

"I'm fine now," she says with a watery smile. "I was just stressing over this test. If I fail I don't get to graduate."

You nod sympathetically but then a random thought enters your head.

_If she repeats a year, she could still captain the Bellas! Our legacy will—_

You then reprimand yourself for even hoping your best friend won't graduate.

"I called Fat Amy to cheer me up," she continues. "I would have called you but you deserve to celebrate tonight and I didn't want to bother you."

_She's such a sweetheart._

You turn to Amy to give her a grateful smile for taking care of Chloe. But you're here now and as Bella captain, it's your responsibility to take care of all your Bellas. You turn back to Chloe and hold her tightly.

"Well, I'm here now. Granted, I'm a little tipsy," you joke. "But I can still help you study."

"And _you_," you say, turning to Amy. "You are relieved of your duties, Fat Amy."

You take her by the shoulders and push her toward the door. She seems reluctant at first so you feel like Sisyphus pushing his boulder up a mountain, but she gives in eventually.

"Go back to the club and have fun! It's only—" your watch says it's only a couple of minutes past twelve-thirty. "Twelve-thirty? Jeez, we're getting to old for this shit."

"All righty then," Amy acquiesces. "I'm ready to tear up Manhattan."

You smile at her antics.

"Uh, Chloe, just remember what I said, yeah? _Prepare _your notes well so you can _graduate_ with as little pain as possible."

You look between the blonde and the redhead curiously.

_Really? That's the study advice she gave? Doesn't sound very helpful._

But Chloe nods gratefully before heading back to studying so you shrug and proceed to shoo Amy out of your room.

"Have fun out there! See you in the morning!"

"Good night, Aubrey."

Once the door was firmly shut, you turn around and catch Chloe staring at you.

"Is something wrong?" you ask.

"Oh, no," she says, recovering. "I was just thinking. Russian philosophy, you know."

You move over to her bed and pick up some of her notes.

"Why are you taking Russian philosophy again? I thought you were a Lit major?"

"A lot of philosophers were writers, and vice-versa," she explains patiently. "So a lot of our philosophical readings are actually popular literary works."

"Okay," you scan her notes to gain a quick understanding. "Just tell me when you want to start so…"

You notice her staring at you again and it's starting to get creepy.

"Chloe, for serious, why are you staring at me like that? I'm getting goosebumps."

"Aubrey, is there something _you_ want to tell me?" she asks, her tone unnaturally hard.

"What do you mean?"

"You're acting… differently."

You can't imagine how you could be acting any differently, but then this is Chloe. She's known and lived with you through four years of college. No one can read you better than she can. However, you're still not sure if this is something you want to discuss with her. But you look into those bright blue eyes and feel your resolve crumbling.

_Isn't this what best friends do, tell each other secrets?_

"I slept with Beca. Just now. I think we may be dating," you blurt out.

You didn't to be so… succinct, but this is a delicate situation and now, without Beca and the help of alcohol, you've lost the courage to come to terms with the way you feel.

Chloe doesn't say anything for a while. She just looks into your eyes with a slight frown, concentrating.

_But on what?_

After a while she simply says, "I know," and looks back down at her notes.

"What? How?" you ask in surprise.

"Amy heard you guys on the way. She told me."

_Were we even that loud? I hope she doesn't tell the rest of the Bellas—_

"Don't worry, I don't think she'll tell the others," Chloe says, allaying your fears.

_She always knows what to say. But those are some unnaturally few words._

"That's… it? You don't have any questions for me?"

"Well, I'm sure you know what you're doing so…" she says rather coldly and you may have an idea why that is. Chloe hates being kept out of the loop.

"Chloe, I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I—that I had feelings for Beca sooner. I know we promised not to have secrets. This one was just too… I was too scared."

She softens her features and leans forward to wrap you in a Chloe-tight hug.

"I'm sorry. You're right, I shouldn't be pissed that you didn't tell me. I should be here now, supporting you," she says before pulling back and asking, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes, please," you nod eagerly and she laughs.

She heads over to the mini-fridge and brings out a box of chocolates and what looks like two juice boxes. She hands you one and you laugh at the label.

"Juice-box wine?"

"Saw it in a store on the way here, thought it might be useful," she shrugs. "Now spill."

You give Chloe the Sparknotes version of everything. You're not sure how Chloe still feels about you so you don't emphasize the parts that could possibly hurt her. You simply tell Chloe that, after that infamous fight during rehearsals, and Beca's consequent mashing up of '_Just A Dream' _and '_Just The Way You Are,'_ you started changing the way you felt about the brunette.

You use the term 'changing' because you've always felt something about Beca: anger, annoyance, and jealousy, among others. But you also realized that she had good qualities, qualities you overlooked because you were too busy being a bitch to her. Beca was incredibly kind, funny, and thoughtful. And once you stopped feeling threatened by her and opened up to the idea of mixing things up, everything else changed.

You recall all the performances you've ever done with Chloe and the Bellas—nothing comes close to the way you felt during the finals. For once, it was not about winning or beating the Trebles. It was about your girls, your hard work, and your talent. It took one girl to change the way you looked at the world.

You only realized you wanted a relationship with Beca when the thought of never being able to feel that way again made you cringe. You confess to Chloe that you feel guilty for being selfish and going after Beca when you knew she had just kissed Jesse earlier tonight, just so you can get what you want.

But you made the mistake of taking in copious amounts of alcohol at the club and letting your libido take over. It has been almost a year since you got any—_but that's not an excuse_. You honestly didn't expect, however, to have a conversation with Beca after sobering up, and in that conversation mere minutes ago you both talked and decided you wanted to be together for real. But then Jesse called so you had to leave the room, and now here you are telling Chloe all about it.

Chloe didn't speak or interrupt the entire time you were explaining everything, which is odd because normally when you have gossip she jumps in with the most random of questions. She just nods occasionally while taking a sip of wine or a bite of chocolate.

"The end," you say before finishing off your juice-box wine.

Chloe nods again. Then she pats you on the shoulder, says "I'm happy for you," and proceeds to clean up the empty packets of wine and chocolate.

As she washes her hands in the bathroom, you call out, "Again… _that's it_?"

"Well, what do you want me to say, Bree?" she says innocently, drying her hands on the her bed sheets—which earns her a scolding glare from you—before sitting back down. "You explained everything. I listened. I'm excited and happy for you both."

"Okay, how about you give me advice instead?"

"Advice on what?"

"The Jesse thing, for one. Do you think I'm a bad person for going after Beca?" you ask because that's been nagging you since Jesse's call. "And what about the fact that I'm leaving soon?"

Chloe fiddles with her thumb ring while her eyes focuses on nothing in particular.

_Ah, the Chloe Beale deep in thought mode._

You know this might take a while but you don't rush her. Chloe's had more experience in relationships of all shapes and sizes, so you trust her judgment and give her time to make one.

"If this relationship is something you believe you should fight for," she begins. "Then do it. If you think you can love her, and she can love you—then it beats any argument your head can come up with."

"But Jesse—"

"The way I see it, Beca chose you for a reason. It would be a shame to feel guilty for making Beca happy, wouldn't it?"

"But isn't it selfish? What about Jesse's happiness?"

Chloe stops to think about it.

"I… can't really speak for him but… if he really loved her, he would think the same way. If he really loved Beca, her happiness would always go above his."

You shake your head, not in disagreement, but in disbelief. "I can't imagine anyone being that selfless."

After a pause, Chloe asks, "You believe you're what's best for Beca, right?"

You look up, surprised, but nod confidently.

"And she thinks so, too, based on what you told me?"

"Yeah," you say. "Yeah, she does."

"Then trust Jesse to understand. You're only hurting him more by undermining his love for Beca."

You think about it for a while. It makes sense… in an oxymoronic, paradoxical kind of way. You can't imagine arguing with him and asking him to forgive you because it's what's best for Beca, though. And there's still one problem.

"What about Harvard?" you ask. "I know we just started but I don't think Beca's the long-distance type and neither am—"

"That shouldn't matter right now," she interjects. "Our lease expires at the end of August. Stay here! Spend time with each other, and figure out what you want. You don't have to end things now just because you have a time limit. Beside, some relationships don't have to last forever to be meaningful."

You smile gratefully at your best friend. You try to look into her eyes but she tilts them downward, back to her notes. It makes you think she's avoiding yours.

And then it hits you.

"Um, you're… okay with me dating Beca, right?" You curse yourself for being so tentative.

_After all these years, why can't you have the guts to face her about this? _

"What do you mean?" she says, still not looking up.

"I mean, because you asked before—and I said no, but then now I'm…?" You wave your hands frantically, hoping Chloe can pick up on what you're not saying.

You're surprised when she looks up and laughs at your discomfort.

"Are you trying to ask if I'm okay with you dating with a woman, considering you weren't, like what, three and a half years ago?"

"Well, yeah," you frown. "I thought it would be a bigger issue for you but I guess I was wrong."

"Oh, Aubrey," she smiles genuinely. "I love you, but it's been years since I thought of loving you in that way."

You sigh in relief. "Are you sure? I ask because as my best friend you can expect us to have a lot of girl talks about this. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You seem to be forgetting we've actually _had_ these girl talks before when you dated Unicycle," she giggles and you smack your palm against your forehead.

"Of course! How could I forget that you threatened to kick his ass after he broke up with me over Pukegate. But then settled on dyeing his Afro red," you laugh.

"It was perfect! He looked _just _like a clown!"

The two of you are laughing hysterically now.

"Although, in hindsight I guess I should have told you off for sneaking into people's showers," you choke out, wiping tears from the corner of your eyes.

For a brief second you think you see her smile disappear. But then she turns to you and says with a serious expression, "No one breaks my best friend's heart and gets away with it."

"Aww, Chloe," you wrap her in one of your own, rare, Aubrey hugs.

You can't imagine surviving the last four years without this girl. You're so glad this bubbly redhead wasn't turned off by your stiff and cold personality when she found out you'd be roommates on your first day at Barden. Chloe Beale is an aca-amazing person and it makes you wonder why everyone underestimates her just because she occasionally says or does weird things, or because of her beauty. Especially guilty of this are the recent guys she's been dating, which reminds you—

"But enough about me, how are _you?_" you ask after pulling away.

"Oh, I'm fine," she smiles. "I'm happy."

"With Tom?" you ask skeptically.

She rolls her eyes. "No, silly. I broke up with him months ago."

"Oh, that's good. He didn't deserve you, Chlo."

"Of course he didn't. He was just a fuck buddy," she shrugs.

You wince at the words because—

"You deserve more than a fuck-buddy relationship," you say seriously. "The universe should be pummeling you with eligible bachelors—or bachelorettes—who can give you the love you deserve."

She laughs. "As nice as it is to be _pummeled_ with people, I'm totally happy being alone."

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow at her and she looks back at you wearily.

"I just haven't found anyone I want to feel that way about yet, okay?" She gestures at the scattering of notes and books on her bed. "Now can you actually help me study? I don't want to be looking for that special someone at Barden next school year."

* * *

A few hours later, when you arrive at the airport and board the plane, Chloe makes no impression that she knows about your new relationship with Beca. Fat Amy, however, gives you two a wink, causing you to blush and Beca to look at you curiously.

"She sort of heard us last night, no big deal, we'll talk about it later," you whisper hurriedly, settling your bag in the overhead bin and taking the aisle seat beside Chloe's window seat and behind Beca's.

You haven't been alone with Beca since last night because you had to rush all the Bellas to meet your 7:30AM flight back to Atlanta. You originally planned to book the 6AM one but gave the girls more time getting up from their hangovers. Apparently you overestimated their ability to recover as fast as you and Chloe can, so you end up rushing anyway.

"Do you want me to switch seats with Beca?" Chloe mutters into your ear.

"No, no, no. We don't want to be too obvious with our relationship yet," you whisper back.

Chloe snorts and shakes her head, putting her left earphone back in and turns back to reading more of her notes from last night.

Beca twists in her seat in front of you to give you a small, shy smile. Your heart flutters at the sweet gesture and smile back at her. She turns back, putting her earphones in and you let your eyes drift shut as the plane takes off.

* * *

Back at your apartment, Chloe heads straight to her room and tells you she will be taking a quick nap to prepare for her big test in the afternoon.

"Make it a long one, you haven't slept at all last night!" you call after her.

She waves her hand in acknowledgement and the next things you hear are her door shutting close and the thump of her collapsing on her bed. You glance at the wall clock and see that there's still time to reach the 10:30AM yoga class so you get ready and head out.

Feeling thoroughly stretched out and good about yourself an hour later, you pick up a sandwich for you and Chloe on the way back when you notice Beca on sitting on the grass in the quad, working on something on her laptop.

"Hey, you," you say, when you're sure you're close enough for her to notice your presence even with headphones on.

"Aubrey!" she greets with a smirk. "Fancy seeing you here… going for a run?"

"Just came from yoga." You cross your legs and take a seat beside her, then you unwrap a sandwich and take a bite.

Beca takes off her headphones and faces you. "Isn't it, like, taboo to eat immediately after exercising?"

You shake your head and swallow before replying, "You're actually _supposed_ to eat immediately after because that's when you're metabolism is running the most. So you don't get fat."

"Oh, trust me, you don't have a problem with that," she winks.

You roll your eyes and offer her your sandwich. She takes a comically large bite and you grab it back from her, shaking your head at her laughing face.

"Are you like this on all your dates?" you tease. "Because I gotta say, it's really unflattering, Mitchell."

She tries and fails to defend herself through her mouthful of food. She frowns and begins chewing furiously to empty her mouth.

"Maybe I was wrong about this whole thing," you say, feigning a look of regret, before she could finish chewing. "If all I'm ever going to be to you is a food delivery service, maybe I should just set you up with someone who works at a Taco Bell."

Beca swallows loudly and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Ha-ha. Cut the dramatics, Posen. I was starving. But if you really _do_ know someone at Taco Bell, I wouldn't mind—"

"You're insufferable!" you shove her, laughing. _I've never laughed so much around other people._

"But honestly though, I've been on dates before," she says straightening up. "But it's like, I don't want to have them with you, you know?"

"What? But I thought—"

"No, I mean, I don't see myself going to fancy dinners, movies, or art galleries with you," she gestures between the two of you. "I'd much rather we just have tons of fun together."

"How are those things not fun?"

"It's just not _us_, you know? Especially considering how we started our relationship."

You did start your relationship in a non-traditional way. Well, that is if you don't count sex as a legitimate way to start a relationship. It was sort of… business-like, especially since you recall Beca saying her reasons for getting into the relationship were 'why not' and 'it might be fun,' which now makes you wonder.

"Speaking of," you start. "You never actually… told me why you wanted to be with me."

"What? Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't, _I_ did. _I _confessed to _you_ but in the end _you _asked _me._"

Beca frowns with the effort to keep up with who did what.

"Look, I know you're not into the whole romantic stuff," you continue. "But I'm a little worried here. If you only said yes because of the sex—"

"No! Oh god, no," she assures you. "I mean, yeah the night started out with sex but," she gulps, "I had a lot of time to think about it since then and I—the way I feel is real."

She looks away shyly, clearly still uncomfortable with these types of conversations. "I'm sorry I'm not eloquent in expressing it…"

Beca is being vulnerable again and now you feel bad for accusing her of not being honest about her feelings. You take her hand in what you hope is a comforting gesture.

"Have you heard of the five love languages?" you ask, running your thumb across the back of her hand.

"Huh?"

"It's a book."

"Do I look like I read books about love?"

"_Anyway_," you continue. "It says there are five ways to express and experience love. You can do it through gifts, by doing something nice for each other, spending quality time, touching, or by affirming your love out loud."

"So clearly, I'm not the affirming it out loud type," she says.

"I agree. We're going to find what type you are, Beca, don't worry."

"What type are you?"

"Hmm… it would probably be a tie between physical touch and affirmation."

"I guess I should be doing an extra amount of touching then," she says cheekily.

You just shake your head and start to get up. "I'd better get home and give Chloe her sandwich."

"Wait!" Beca grabs your wrist to keep you sitting. She hesitates for a moment, biting her lip, before she continues, "As much as I wouldn't want to deprive anyone of food—here."

She moves her laptop so you can see the screen more clearly. It's showing you the application she uses to make her mixes.

"What're you working on?"

"It's, uh, a mix for you," she says with the deepest blush you've ever seen. "About you, I mean. It's not ready yet obviously, otherwise I would have made you listen to it… but I, uh, couldn't get you out of my head ever since last night so started working on it nonstop—"

You crack a smile so wide it hurts the corners of your mouth. You can't contain it anymore so you launch yourself forward and capture her lips with yours.

You're delighted at how soft Beca's lips are, and you're absolutely melting under the gentle way Beca moves them against yours. You keep it pretty innocent—_I am in the middle of the quad after all—_until you both have to break apart for air.

She's also sporting a face-splitting grin. "Now get out of here before I feel the need to touch you more."

* * *

Beca making a mix about you was an incredibly sweet thing to do, but you do not want to be outdone but the tiny DJ. You get some advice from Chloe and find out that Beca's not really that hard to please. So you decide to order a lot of takeout from Taco Bell—_Chloe's sound advice, based on months of being Beca's closest friend—_and plan to surprise her after her class.

Now you're currently waiting outside her Intro to Philosophy classroom at 3PM on a Wednesday afternoon. Your body feels weird to be doing nothing, since it's used to stressing out about school or the Bellas. But you've finished with most of your academic requirements and are just waiting for your exams, and the Bellas have already won the ICCAs so you're finding yourself with a lot of free time.

When the bell rings you expected Beca to be the first to come out but after waiting for the room to empty and still no Beca, you step inside and approach the professor.

"Excuse me, sir, this _is_ Intro to Philosophy, right?"

"Yes, dear," the old man replies kindly.

"Oh, then I was wondering if you have a student named Rebecca Mitchell in your class?"

"Miss Mitchell isn't exactly consistent with her attendance, miss," he chuckles. "She seems to come in when she pleases, and she doesn't please often."

You frown, but at least you got the classroom right. "How is she doing with her grades then?"

"Terribly, as you can expect from a student who doesn't attend class. But she still has a chance to bring that F up to a D, or even a C minus, with some last-minute effort."

With that, the old professor packs up his things and shuffles out of the room.

You know exactly where to find the slacker so minutes later you're rapping your knuckles against her dorm room's door. It swings open to reveal a surprised Beca in her signature headphones-around-the-neck look.

"Aubrey? What are you doing here?"

"You cut your Intro to Philosophy class! Again!" you accuse, marching into the room.

She looks around wildly. "Did my _dad_ send you to spy on me?"

"No," you say, rolling your eyes. "I was going to surprise you after your class but your professor told me you haven't actually been attending it."

"Old man Murphy? Oh, yeah! He's a cool dude. He loves telling on me, though."

"Yeah, and he told _me_ you're getting an F in his class unless you put more effort in the last few weeks."

"Okay, then I'll get an F," she shrugs.

"Beca!" you reprimand. "Barden has a retention grade. If you don't—"

Suddenly it makes sense why Beca's not putting too much effort in her academics. You recall the other footnote to your relationship that gives it an expiry date besides your own law school plans.

"You're going to LA."

"You know about that? Already?" she adds quickly.

"Chloe told me."

"And you can see how that affects us, right?"

"I don't have to leave until the end of August so if you would be willing to wait a few months before leaving, we could be together longer."

"But that's—yeah sure, we'd be together longer, but we'd still have to break up… right?"

"Chloe said," you begin slowly, "that not all meaningful relationships have to last forever."

"Wait, so she knows about us?"

"Yes. Sorry I forgot to mention it the other day."

Beca sighs. "Well, I knew this conversation was going to happen eventually. We might as well get over it now."

"_Or_ we could take Chloe's advice," you suggest. "And talk about it when we absolutely have to. In August."

She thinks about it for a while before quietly saying, "I told you I didn't want to get hurt, remember? What if we become something more by then? I don't want to have to choose between you and LA."

"You won't," you say firmly. "If we… if we develop stronger feelings, then we will work something out. I know it's vague but, Beca, I really don't want to give up what we have right now just because we're afraid of something in the future. Do you?"

She shakes her head. "You're right. Yeah, we can talk about it when the time's right."

"But Beca?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think failing out of Barden will better convince your dad to support you in LA?"

"Jesus, fine! I'll study harder, okay?" Beca throws up her hands in defeat and you cheer. "But if this studying thing affects my mixing, I'm done."

You roll your eyes at her distorted priorities. "I doubt it significantly affects that. You can come up with mixes anytime and any place."

"Well, that's true," she shrugs proudly. "But listen to what the extra concentrating time can produce."

She unplugs the headphones from her laptop and plays the mix that you recognize is _your_ mix, the one Beca was working on in the quad.

You used to think mixes were a poor form of expression, and only done for auditory pleasure. But after Beca, one of the many things that changed was your appreciation for how a mix of sounds and songs can be used together to create its own expression. And that is precisely what's happening in this mix.

When it's done, Beca looks at you tentatively, trying to gather your reaction from your face.

"Beca, it's amazing!" you praise, still slightly awestruck.

"You're not just saying that, are you?" she smirks and you shake your head.

"I don't know how you do it, but I sort of… _felt_ it, rather than heard it."

"What do you mean?"

"I felt… a lot of conflict. But it's a conflict that means something," you look at Beca and see an amused expression on her face. "I know I'm not making sense but…"

"But you're not supposed to," she finished. "The music is expression enough."

You nod. "How is this about me though?"

"It's how you make me feel. It's what my world is like with you in it."

"Conflicted?"

"Meaningful," she corrects with a smile.

You didn't realize you had come closer to each other and are now inches apart. Your eyes dart down to her lips, currently curved into that sexy smile of hers. She bites her bottom lip and damn if she didn't just get a hundred times sexier.

You place your hand at her nape and slowly pull her closer, until you lips are gently pressing together. Her hands are on your waist, tugging at the fabric of your tank top to pull you closer to her. The intensity of your kissing increases until your head gets dizzy and your knees weak so you move to her bed and push her down carefully, never releasing each other from your lip-lock.

She bites your bottom lip and you gasp in surprise at the pleasure that jolts through your body. She flips you over, careful not to hit the shelves, and begins attacking your neck. Your breathing quickens with every kiss she plants on your exposed skin, her one hand trailing up underneath your shirt and approaching your breast. You let out a moan of pleasure just as the door opens and Beca's sullen Korean roommate walks in.

"Fuck." Beca rolls off you, breathing heavily.

You let out a breath and turn toward the intruder to find her glaring at you. You return her glare ferociously. It seems to work because she quickly grabs a book from her desk and promptly leaves the room. Beca looks at you, impressed

"Never leave my room, please."

Your giggle turns into a laugh when you hear Beca's stomach roar.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah, I skipped lunch today."

"Well, good because I brought you—_shit_, I forgot your Taco Bell in that classroom!"

"Aca-_SCUSE ME_?"

"Taco Bell-ieve it."

* * *

You hate Thursdays.

On Thursdays you have political theory, where your professor thinks it's funny to announce cancellations at the last possible minute, namely, when you are already in the classroom. You hate it because you could have been at home, relaxing instead of walking back and forth from the main campus to your apartment.

After sending Chloe a text and coming up with dinner plans, you take one of the shortcut hallways and suddenly spot a familiar, brown-haired freshman in a maroon hoodie several paces ahead of you.

_Jesse_.

This is the first time you're seeing him since Sunday—not that we used to see each other often anyway—and you're suddenly reminded of what you did to him. More feelings of guilt bubble in your stomach because you realize this is also the first time since the incident that you've even given a thought about how he feels or how he's coping.

Outwardly, he doesn't seem to be any different. But when he turns and sees you after you call his name, the dark scowl proves otherwise. He turns back and continues walking.

"Jesse wait!" You quicken your pace until you can almost grab his arm.

"I don't want to talk to you Aubrey," he says gruffly.

"Please, just let me apologize."

"Why?" He stops to face you, anger etched in every line on his face. "So you can feel better about the shitty thing you did?"

"No! Well, yes, but—"

"Good bye, Aubrey." He starts walking away again.

You notice an open storage room to your left and make a split second decision to grab Jesse by his hoodie and push him inside it. He's so stunned at your action that he just stares at you when you follow him in and shut the door behind you to block his escape.

"Aubrey, _what the hell?_"

"This was my only option!"

"I doubt that. You could have Facebook messaged me," he says, moving toward you, trying to reach for the handle but you move your body in front of it.

"You wouldn't have read it anyway," you argue. "I need you to hear this. It's a healing process for you as much as it is for me."

"Why would you need to heal? You got what you wanted." He crosses his arms.

"Did you think it was easy for me to accept what I did to you?"

Jesse purses his lips and shakes his head. "Yep, I was right. I don't want to hear this. Get out of my way, Aubrey."

"No! Do this for Beca, please."

Apparently you said the wrong thing because he looks at you incredulously. "Ex-_cuse_ me?"

_For a second there I thought he said 'aca-scuse me'. _

"I don't owe Beca _anything_," he says. "You can have her for all I care."

"But you do care," you insist quickly. "You still care about her, I'm sure of it. You don't get over someone you've fallen for just like that."

He continues to glare at you for a while but says nothing. Finally, he takes a deep breath. "Fine. But don't take too long I have to be at the station."

"Okay." You straighten up, your Posen instincts taking command and condensing everything you ever want to say to Jesse to help him get over this. "Just three things then:

"First, I need to you believe, wholeheartedly, that I am sorry for what I did, and for what happened. You don't have to forgive me, and I'm not asking you to forgive Beca. I just need you to know that I never intended to hurt you. I know was being completely selfish, but if I could go back I wouldn't do it that way."

You pause, waiting for a sign of acknowledgement from Jesse.

"You wouldn't do it that way, but you'd still do it?" he asks suspiciously.

"Look, I can't deny what I feel for Beca, and I know it's just been a few days but being with her is... _beyond_ anything I could have ever imagined. So I probably would still go after her, but not in a way that would get you hurt as badly."

He nods. "Second thing?"

"But you acknowledge the first point? You believe that I am truly, regretfully, sorry?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Thank you," you say sincerely. "The second thing might be little difficult to hear but you should hear it nonetheless:

"I am good for Beca, and she is good for me. We will grow together in our relationship as a couple and as individuals. I promise to make her happy, I promise to take care of her, and I promise to love her with all my heart. I already do."

Despite the dim lighting of the storage room, you notice Jesse's eyes water slightly but you doubt it's because he's moved at your words. These are the words he probably imagined himself saying about Beca, and hearing them come from someone else must be painful.

He swallows a lump in his throat and asks dryly, "Why are you telling me this? Do you want my blessing or something?"

"No. I want you to believe—and this is a long shot—that I am who's best for her." You pause for him to interrupt but he surprisingly doesn't. "And it's not that you aren't good for her, it's just that—"

"It's just that, if you convince me that you're better for her than I am, you hope that I love her enough to want her to be happy with the person she's meant to be with," he finishes.

You're surprised he got to the point so quickly. "Y-yeah. I know I can't convince you at this moment, in this storage room, but I hope you'll still give me the chance to prove it."

He takes another deep breath before nodding once more. "Okay. For the record, I still don't think you're better for her. But I won't stand in your way because you're not only proving it to me, you have to prove it to Beca, too."

"Agreed. Now, get ready because you'll probably like the third and last thing: I'm going to let you yell at me, Jesse. Here in this tiny storage room, say everything you ever wanted to say to me. Let it all out, no holds barred. Just, you know, don't hit me or anything."

He lets out the tiniest chuckle. He looks into your eyes—_I think he's trying to detect fear_—and you look back with a fiercely stubborn determination that would make your father proud.

His eyes shift and he stares at a mop to your left. It's taking him a really long time and you start to wonder how much he has wanted to say to you since the incident.

"Since the call," he begins. "I've been rehearsing, in my head, how I would… deal with seeing you or Beca. I thought about the best way to make you to feel what I felt. It wasn't even the humiliation that I got dumped hours after our first kiss. It was a raw, painful hurt that I just lost the greatest thing I had going in my life."

He shifts his weight to the other foot, still staring at the dirty mop.

"But now that I'm in front of you… I can't, for the life of me, harness that anger anymore. A part of me is tired and just wants to move on from this. But another part, a more recent part," he finally looks at you, "is saying it's because I've accepted it."

You put on a curious expression to show him that you don't understand.

"I'm a love nut," he confesses, raising his arms dejectedly. "I am a supporter of love. And you were right, I still care about Beca and I will never stop caring about her. If everything you said is true—and I believe it is, otherwise you wouldn't have trapped me in this dingy, spider-filled janitor's closet you've been calling a storage room… then I have to put Beca's happiness before mine.

"But I'm telling you this now, Aubrey Posen, if you break her heart, I don't think I can continue being the nice guy."

You nod firmly. His eyes have lost their anger, and you can't help but feel a kinship with him over your shared feelings toward Beca.

"Couldn't you have just said, 'No more Mister Nice Guy'? That would have been cooler," you say in a mock-serious tone.

"Don't. I still hate you, Aubrey," he says, forcing a frown. "Now will you let me out? My boss is going to kill me."

"Right. Thanks for listening, Jesse."

You step to the side and swing the _closet_ door open.

"Just remember what I said, and prove yourself," he says before briskly walking away.

When he's safely out of sight you shriek and shake every part of your body to get rid of potential spiders.

* * *

A/N: Aubrey might seem a bit out of character but I actually think this is how she is outside of her Pukegate trauma. Her issues with her dad are taking a backseat because she's done everything right for now—winning the ICCAs, getting into Harvard Law School—so I didn't touch on it.


	6. Chloe: God's Punishment

A/N: This will be the only chapter we get to see inside Chloe's head. Broke my own formatting rule and split this into four parts so it's easier to get through.

**2016 EDIT:** Elaborated more on some parts.

* * *

**PART ONE: THURSDAYS ARE THE WORST**

You love Thursdays—or at least, you used to.

On Thursdays you only have one class in the morning and have the rest of the day free. Normally you spend it doing Bellas stuff but with the recent ICCA trophy on the shelf and the fact that you're definitely graduating—_yay, me!_—there is no Bellas stuff anymore.

You tried finding someone to hang out with but everyone either has a full day of class or is on your list of people to avoid. (That list consists of only one person, to be honest.)

So now you hate all future Thursdays until graduation because it leaves you alone with your thoughts. And after what happened last weekend, you really don't like what your thoughts have to say.

After spending the entire day watching trashy TV shows, you feel like getting some fresh air. But just when you contemplate heading out, your phone buzzes with a message from Bree.

**Dickhead cancelled class last minute again. I'm on my way home.**

Knowing how much Bree hates her night class, you reply to her with what you think is a sympathetic emoji and, "**How about we blow the night off binge watching The Bachelorette over some margaritas?**"

**Perfect! I'll stop by that Thai place and grab us dinner on the way.**

Your mouth waters at the expectation of Thai food tonight and you head over to kitchen to check if you have enough ingredients for those margaritas.

"**Do you think you could ask for some ice, too?**" you send out quickly.

**Fine.**

"**Love you!**"

You take out the tequila from the cupboard and realize you're also out of limes. But instead of asking Bree for another favor you decide to simply ask your downstairs neighbor who you think has a part-time bartending job.

You grab your keys, phone, and wallet, and yank open the door to find yourself face to face with a small, pale figure.

"_Jesus Christ!_" you both shriek.

You take a step back instinctively into your apartment to put distance between you and whoever is at your door—_oh, it's Beca._

The tiny DJ is breathing heavily and clutching a brown paper bag to her chest with one hand and her phone in the other. You're about to ask what she's doing here but she beats you to it.

"Jesus, Beale, you scared the shit out of me! What the hell were you doing?"

"Me? What about you!" You take a step forward, your knees still a little wobbly from shock. "You can't just stand in front people's doors like that!"

"I was about to call you to open the door!" she explains, waving her phone in your face. "And _you_ shouldn't open doors like an FBI agent on a drug bust!"

You cock your head to the side in amusement but then you suddenly realize who is standing in front you. It's the first time you've actually spoken to Beca since Sunday, much less have been alone with her.

It's so different now; you see her so differently now. It's like you've travelled back in time, to months ago, when you first realized you were falling for her and how it hurt to know it could never happen. Only this time it could never happen for a different reason.

You would think finding out Beca was gay would make you feel better, but you didn't expect the person she'd turn to was your best friend who, _by the way_, wasn't attracted to women when _you _had asked years ago—

You shake your head violently to get rid of the thoughts that poisoned your mind. You promised yourself after that talk with Bree that you'd let everything go.

Beca looks at you curiously and asks, "You okay?"

_Beca doesn't see me differently. That's the point._

You nod automatically. "What are you doing here?" you ask.

"Uh..." She looks down at her shoes shyly. "I was actually going to ask for your help to surprise Aubrey when she gets back from her class."

She puts her phone back in her pocket and brings out the contents of the paper bag. "Look, I found these at a store when we were in New York," she says amusedly. "It's wine in a _juice box_! Isn't that _ridiculously_ cute?"

It's the exact same brand you and Bree drank that night. Probably from the exact same store, too.

_Very funny, Universe._

"I thought Aubrey would… find it amusing…" She trails off, seeing the look on your face. "Hey, are you sure you're okay?"

This time, you don't answer as quickly. You're not really sure what's going on with you; your heart hasn't stopped pounding since the surprise encounter at the door, so much so that you oddly don't really feel it beating anymore.

Your thoughts are focused on the image of Beca in front of you, planning a romantic surprise for her girlfriend slash your best friend.

"I'm fine," you say after a moment.

"You know, the downside to having those gorgeous big blue eyes of yours is that people can easily tell when you're lying," she teases.

You're no stranger to Beca's compliments. As introverted as she is, Beca is surprisingly prone to making inappropriate comments, as you discovered at the start of your friendship. But that doesn't shield you from the wave of emotion that runs through your body upon hearing it.

So you avert your eyes and stare instead at the printout of Bree's and your class schedules. It's been a tradition (obviously initiated by her) since freshman year to do that every new semester so you get to memorize each other's schedules and be aware of each other's locations 24/7.

"Is this about me and Aubrey?" Beca asks quietly, when you don't respond to her.

"No, no," you say weakly.

Your heart is still pounding and you're beginning to get dizzy. Being around Beca is draining your energy and pulling you into a place you don't want to be in. You can almost _feel_ where the conversation might be headed. You can almost hear the dramatically rising background music of your sad and unlucky life.

_I need to leave before I say something I'll regret._

But you can't leave. You have plans with Bree. If she comes home to a confused Beca and an absent you, she'd make the conclusion that you're totally not okay with them dating.

_And Bree will think it's because I'm still in love with her._

Oh, what a mess you're in.

"Chloe, you're really pale," Beca says as she puts the bag and juice box wine on the counter. "And coming from me, that's saying something."

She takes you by your wrist and once again you feel that jolt of emotion.

She notices you jerk your hand away and looks at you worriedly. "Are you sick? Should I call Aubrey? I don't—"

"Beca, I'm not sick," you assure her.

Your mind is racing, trying to think of a way to get you away from Beca, or at least to calm your nerves.

_The tequila!_

No way, that would only make things worse.

"Seriously? Because you're acting really weird, Chloe," Beca tries to look into your eyes again. "Why do you look so nervous? Where were you going?"

"Limes."

"Sorry?"

"I was going to get limes."

"You mean like hang out?"

_What? _

"No, I mean like the fruit," you frown.

"At night?"

"Guy in our building keeps a lot of limes."

Your short, rapid-fire responses help prolong the conversation and buy you time to think of a decent excuse to leave.

"_Oh_," she says, her eyes widening as though she's figured something out. "You don't have to be nervous, Chlo. I'm sure he'll find you great."

You blink. "It's for margaritas. He's a bartender."

"_Oh_," she repeats, looking extremely embarrassed. "Wait, do you and Aubrey have plans? I can come another time—"

"No!" you almost yell, because a brilliant idea just struck you. "Stay, _I'll_ go."

"What? No, Chloe—"

"It's the perfect surprise!" you say in what you hope is a convincingly cheerful tone. At least the extra adrenaline is helping. "Her class got cancelled so I lured her in with The Bachelorette and margaritas, but when she comes home she'll find you! She'll be _so_ surprised!"

It's a good thing you've kept a reputation of being bubbly and hyperactive all these years, because no one else would be as believable being excited at the idea of your secret crush planning a surprise date for your best friend as you are.

"But what about you?"

"I do these things with Aubrey all the time," you wave your hand carelessly. "Plus, this gives me time to chat up the bartender downstairs."

You're glad Beca knows you well enough to hear your dig at her earlier comment. After she apologizes, you shrug and say, "Just pretend I was in on it the whole time, okay?"

"Thanks, Chloe."

She smiles at you with that rare Beca Mitchell smile and it hurts to think that you were once so proud of being the only one who could bring it to life.

"No problem! Have fun," you say, realizing that you already had one foot out the door since you pulled away from Beca earlier. It's not long before you're waving good-bye and heading down the hallway.

"Chloe, wait! Any advice on what to do?" she calls from the door but you're on your way down the stairs.

You pause because you can't help but care about the both of them.

You take a deep breath (quietly) and yell back, "Put the TV on The Bachelorette, dim the lights, and set the table _perfectly_. Ready a pitcher of cucumber and basil water and," you pause to stomach this last one, "Candles in the bedroom; matches are in the cupboard above the sink."

"Flowers?"

"Single stemmed rose or forget about it."

"Love you!"

* * *

**PART TWO: AWKWARD ENCOUNTERS OF THE JESSE KIND**

Coincidentally, when you reach the ground floor, Bart the bartender—_I know, right_—is on his way out for a shift at the bar. He smiles at you and holds the door open, and you smile back. You contemplate accompanying him to the bar and _actually_ chatting him up just to spite Beca, but then you think, with an aching lurch, that she probably wouldn't care.

Honestly, though, you know it's not true; Beca_ would_ care. She is your best friend. But you find there's an odd sort of poetic justice attached to deliberately thinking that she wouldn't.

So instead you go to your second favorite place on campus, the WBUJ radio station. It's late enough that you're sure he'd be there.

You enter the dimly lit office and walk past the trolleys and shelves of CDs toward the booth, where Luke is on his cellphone with an irritated scowl on his face. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, you head over immediately to the buttons and lights you have been itching to touch your entire college life.

"All right, I need to leave right now so just make sure you're here in five minutes," you hear Luke say suddenly from behind you. And then he slaps your hand away from a knob you were about to turn up.

You turn around and glare at your third 'best friend.' Quotation marks included because no one, not even Aubrey, has any idea that the two of you know each other outside the classroom, let alone have an almost four-year-old friendship. Neither of you intended it to be a secret; it just ended up that way. And it's kind of nice to have someone to talk to these past four years who _wasn't_ a Bella.

He hangs up the call and turns to you with a business-like expression. "As much as I'd love to catch up, Chlo, I've got to dash. An up-and-coming retro folk revival artist I've been following closely is playing at a pub downtown. I might get him to go on air for me. Watch—_just watch_—the booth for me, please, until my intern arrives?"

"Retro folk revival?" you ask puzzled, but Luke just pecks your cheek and waves on his way out with a quick reminder not to touch anything.

So you plop yourself on the couch in the corner and flip through an old Rolling Stones magazine while waiting for whoever it is to relieve you of your sentinel duties.

Not long after Luke leaves, the door opens and closes again. A familiar freshman Treble darts into the booth and looks surprised to see you there.

"Chloe?"

"Jesse," you say in slightly less surprise. You completely forgot that the other intern here was _Jesse_.

You haven't seen him since the ICCA finals but based on what Bree has told you, he and Beca broke up and it wasn't pretty. He was ignoring Beca and had asked Luke to put him on separate shifts at the station, which explains why Beca was free tonight.

You remember the horror on Luke's face when he recounted having an unexpected "guy talk" with his intern the other day. But since you sort of know what Jesse's going through, you chastised your British best friend for not being more consoling.

"Uh, congrats on the win," Jesse says awkwardly.

_Dude, why did you have to bring the conversation around to that night?_

"Thanks. You guys were great, too," you bob your head.

_Awkward silence. Great._

He moves over to the production equipment and checks the lineup of songs Luke prepared before he left—at least, that's what you think he's doing. You really have no idea how this stuff works.

_Oh, wait. I can actually leave._

"So… I guess I should go." You rise from the couch and jerk your thumb toward the door.

"Oh, yeah. Sure," he says, looking everywhere but at you. "Thanks for keeping an eye on the stuff."

"No problem."

You're halfway across the booth when he suddenly steps forward.

"Wait, sorry, uh..." He rubs the back of his neck nervously. "You weren't here for—Beca's not c-coming here, is she?"

His brown eyes are filled with anxiety and it makes you feel kind of proud of how well you've been coping compared to _this_ guy. But then again, Beca never led _you_ on…

You shake your head. "No. Don't worry," you add with a small, sympathetic smile.

He just nods. You turn around slowly and start walking again when he asks another question that could potentially open the doors to a _really_ awkward conversation.

"You're—you're Beca's best friend, right?"

"Uh, something like that."

_What do you mean 'something like that'? What else should Jesse think we are?_

"I mean, yeah," you correct. "I'm the closest to her in the Bellas so I guess you could say that."

"And you're Aubrey's best friend, too, right?"

"Yeah." That one you say more definitely. "We've been roommates since freshman year. Why do you ask?"

He gives you a look and shrugs his shoulders. "What do you think of them?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unusual question. You assume he means 'them' as a couple and not individually.

You don't want to reveal too much about what you _really_ think, nor do you want to be insensitive to his feelings by ignoring his question.

"Unconventional," is the first word that comes to your mouth—it doesn't pass through your mind filter, which is why you are frowning at the way it came out. "But it's really just… none of my business."

You end that note a little too high for your liking. He just nods his head in understanding, but you're certain there's a follow-up question.

"Let me change my question, then," he says more firmly than anything he's ever said so far. "How do you feel about them?"

You look at him curiously. He has a meaningful look in his eyes but it doesn't seem to be an accusing one.

_What does he know?_

"What do you mean?" you say, feigning confusion.

He seems to backtrack on his question and shakes his head. "Sorry," he apologizes. "I'm just a little shaken up… Aubrey sort of cornered me earlier."

_That must be why he was late. I guess it happened after she texted otherwise Bree would've told me. Unless she didn't feel like it…_

"I hope you didn't lay it on her too much," you wince. You know your best friend is tough but you're not sure she could handle a tongue lashing from the guy whose girlfriend she 'stole.'

"Actually, I think _she_ laid it on _me_ too much," he says with a grimace. He sees your frown and explains, "Basically, she told me that if I really love Beca then I should accept that she's what's best for her."

_Hmm, sounds familiar._

"How did you feel about that?" you ask slowly. You're not really sure why Jesse is talking to you about this but you think it's too late to exit the conversation now.

"A little insulted… a little relieved," he says, looking down. "At least I know now that Beca didn't leave me for a fling. Aubrey really cares about her."

He looks up at you and gives you that same look as before—you realize it's apologetic.

So you're pretty sure he knows something now. Your heartbeat quickens as your brain scrambles to think of an exit strategy because you're also pretty sure you do _not _want to have this conversation with Jesse.

"So… I'm going to ask you again," he says when you don't say anything. "How do you feel about them?"

Your brain fails to come up with anything so you glance at, and take a step toward, the door and give the lamest excuse in the book. "Look, I should go. I have an early class tomorrow—"

"Chloe, wait! I'm sorry if I'm being too forward." Jesse moves closer to you. "But I just—I need someone to talk to who understands, you know? And if you still have feelings for Aubrey then you're the only one who—"

"Wait, _what_?"

_Aubrey? How does he know about that? Wait, he thinks I'm in love with Aubrey!_

"Sorry, I actually wasn't sure if it was true. It was just a rumor that went around in the Treble house—"

Your face heats up at the thought of Bumper and his gang of idiots talking and laughing about you and Aubrey that way.

"—but the look on your face a while ago confirmed it. You're still in love with Aubrey, aren't you?"

You don't know what to say. Your mind had been preparing to deny your feelings for _Beca_, not Aubrey. And since it has been a while since you've thought of Bree in that way, you're not prepared with anything to say.

"Jesse, no," you say with surprising clarity. "I love Aubrey like a sister, nothing more."

Jesse doesn't need to know that you _used_ to love her in a different way.

"So you didn't fall for her years ago and get turned down?"

You stare at him angrily.

_The nerve of this guy and those damn gossipy Trebles!_

He raises his hands in a gesture of peace and says quickly, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just needed to check your reaction."

You're extremely tempted to walk out and never speak to Jesse again. In fact, you're not really sure why you haven't yet. It must be the anger blinding your senses.

"I'm really sorry," he repeats. "I don't mean to be so… It's just, like I said, I kind of need someone to talk to and you're the only one who could possibly understand what it feels like to be caught in this mess."

"Even if I did still have feelings for Aubrey," you say, your voice shaking slightly from residual anger. "Do you really think the two of us sharing our hurt feelings over a tub of ice cream is the best way to deal with it? What are you, sixteen?"

Jesse threw up his hands pathetically. "I don't know! I just—I guess I'm not over it yet and I want someone to talk to about this. They say it helps with the healing, and that might be good for the both of us—if you're still into Aubrey, of course."

You shake your head. This conversation went from awkward to downright 'kill me now.'

"I'm leaving." You turn around sharply and stomp out of the booth.

Jesse doesn't stop you this time.

* * *

You're still fuming when you round the street corner.

It's partly because you hate that Jesse brought up your history with Aubrey—as if you needed _more_ reminding; partly because it makes your blood boil to think that all the Trebles knew; and partly because you can't believe what an _idiot_ Jesse was to think you'd actually want to _bond_ over something like this.

You are now seriously contemplating getting shit-faced drunk so you can forget about this entire night, which is very possible without Bree to stop you—

That phrase gives you pause.

_Without Bree to stop you._

No, that's not it.

_Without Bree._

It only now sinks in that Aubrey is _with_ Beca. You've been so focused on Beca not being available anymore that you've forgotten about your best friend not being there to offer comfort, either.

If there is anyone in the world you could have ranted to about your feelings for Beca, it should have been your best friend. But you didn't. You thought you could handle keeping your feelings to yourself—and you have, for the past three and a half years, after being burned the first time you didn't.

Now, unfortunately, you're left with the _other_ guy, Jesse, extending his hand for you to join the Brokenhearted Club.

_No_. _I'm done. I'm supposed to be moving on. Going to Jesse is a huge mistake._

So why are your feet stomping back toward the radio station?

* * *

**PART THREE: THE SWANSON THEORY OF CLOSURE**

BANG.

You see Jesse jump slightly in his chair at the sound of you slamming the station door behind you.

"Chloe?" he says for the second time tonight, a little confused and a little scared. He stands up immediately when you enter the booth.

"You." You point your finger at him threateningly. "Sit down, shut up, and listen:

"Aubrey _did_ turn me down in our freshman year but we've both dated other people since then. I'm not—and never have been—hung up on her, and insinuating that I was just so you could have company while you wallow in misery was a really dick move."

"I'm sorry—"

"I'm not finished," you cut him off. "Grow some fucking balls, Jesse! Yeah, Beca dumped you and ran off with Aubrey. But you told me you've accepted that Aubrey really loves Beca, so what are you gonna do? If you don't actually _believe_ Aubrey, then go get Beca back. But if you want to start the 'healing process' and move on, I suggest you do _just that_. Hell, do whatever you want for all I care, just _don't_ come crying to me, bringing up my history, and _hurting me _just so you can feel better about yourself!"

Jesse hangs his head. "I'm so sorry, Chloe. I didn't realize I was hurting you," he says, rubbing his face with his hands. "I swear, it wasn't my intention… I'm just a complete mess right now."

You just continue to stare at him in silence and, once again, you feel grateful that you handled yourself much better than Jesse is doing right now.

"You know, Aubrey gave me permission to yell at her?" he says suddenly.

"What?"

"When she confronted me, she gave me the chance to yell at her, to say everything I wanted to stay to her when I found out she slept with Beca."

You cringe at the last part, but you're also distracted by the thought of Aubrey offering to be yelled at without retaliating. That girl never backed down during a shouting match if she could help it.

"I couldn't say anything," Jesse shrugs weakly. "I couldn't even say a simple, 'you hurt me' or 'I hope you get what you deserve.' Hell, I didn't even ask what made her so confident that she was who Beca really needed, or _why_ Beca really needed her. I was just too tired… too weak."

You try to recall the night of the ICCA's, when Aubrey told you about her hooking up with Beca. You remember her saying why the relationship was what's best for the both of them, even considering Harvard, and how Beca realized that Jesse wasn't the one to give her that.

And then a reckless thought enters your head.

_Who's to say that _I'm_ not who Beca needs the most?_

"Do you know what I love most about Beca?" Jesse suddenly asks, sending you out of your dangerous line of questioning.

You're not sure where he's going with this but you take a shot and say, "Her goddamn smirk?"

Jesse laughs out loud. "Yeah, that. But also the times when she tries _so_ hard to be badass and then fails spectacularly."

"Like how she's too stubborn to admit when she can't get the choreography," you nod.

"Or how much she really does care about the Bellas, even though she acts like it's a thorn in her side," he smiles up at you.

"Or how she turns into such a dork whenever there's food or red pandas involved."

"Or how she _claims_ to hate movies but you just _know_ she's a closet rom-com fiend."

"Or how she pretends to be brave when watching a scary movie but you catch her not actually looking at the screen." You giggle at the memory of Beca defending her 'peripheral viewing.'

"Wait, you got her to watch a horror movie?"

The look you give him is apologetic and damning. You've always been kind of guilty for watching movies with Beca when you knew that Jesse was trying to give her a 'movie-cation.'

"Sorry," you say after a long silence because Jesse is still looking at you with a curious expression on his face.

"I didn't hurt you because I brought up Aubrey, did I?"

You look into his dark brown eyes and you can already tell.

_He's figured it out._

"You got hurt because I brought up Beca."

There's really no use in denying it now. You don't think he'd be mad, all things considered…

"Sorry," you repeat sincerely. "Aubrey's not the only one who fell in love with your girlfriend… although, to be fair, I was in love with her long before you kissed her," you add as an afterthought. It doesn't help _you_ get rid of the pain but it might help Jesse.

Jesse's mouth is slightly open. He's not looking at you anymore, but rather at the empty space somewhere near your elbow, you think. He looks like he's trying to piece together the evidence so he could say that he should have seen it coming.

Again, you don't really know why you're not just walking straight out the door right now.

"Since when?" he asks. His tone is curious. That's a good sign; at least he's not angry.

You shrug because you don't really know when it started either. "I had a crush on her when we first met… it must have happened along the way."

"Why didn't…?" He gestures at himself and you assume that he's asking why you didn't do anything about Beca before he did.

"She never said she swung both ways," you say simply. You're a bit amused at the expression on Jesse's face—it's a mix between embarrassment and agreement.

"My condolences, I guess," he says with a small laugh and you find yourself actually laughing with him.

You guess it's not so bad, being a part of the Brokenhearted Club. Maybe Jesse had a point in saying that it helps with the healing.

"But you _really_ didn't tell her? After all these months?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "I would have thought you were the type to go for what you wanted."

"Well, like I said, I didn't know she was open to being with a girl," you say, finding that your legs are aching and moving over to the couch to sit. "And the longer I waited, the closer we became, and the riskier it got to actually tell her how I felt. I didn't want to lose her."

"It must've hurt when… when she kissed me."

You shrug. It did, but at least you were already expecting it. "I wasn't stupid; I knew she put that song in the mix for you. It was bound to happen eventually so I prepared myself for it."

"Sorry, I guess," he says but you wave him off.

"I knew you were good for her. You would have treated right."

"Damn right, I would've," he says in an undertone.

You both share a laugh again. Now you're kind of glad you turned around and stomped back in here.

"Thanks for saying that," he adds. "You're a really nice girl."

"Thanks. And you're a really nice guy."

You sink further into the couch and sigh. This oddly does feel like the start of moving on—again.

"So… you're bisexual, right?"

You lift your head to glare at Jesse because, first of all, _are you serious?_ But then you see that he's obviously kidding. You toss a pillow at his head and say, "Do you really want to date someone who's in love with the same girl you are?"

He laughs and picks up the pillow. Moving over to the couch to put it back, he plops down beside you.

"You said '_who's_,'" he says slowly after a moment of silence. "Is that a contraction of 'who is' or 'who was'?"

You contemplate the implications of either answer for a while. You don't really have a definite answer, but you think the fact that you don't is clearly an answer already. It's 'who is.'

(Also, you think 'who was' should never be contracted, but that's beside the point.)

Jesse seems to think along the same lines. "Now that you know, though—that Beca's bisexual—why didn't you go for it?"

You turn to him in confusion because you think it would've been obvious. "Both Beca _and_ Aubrey are my _best_ friends. Do you not understand how much _drama_ my 'going for it' would make?"

He shrugs. "You told _me_ to grow some balls so…"

You roll your eyes. "Totally difference circumstances, Jesse."

"I don't know," he says slowly. "Fine, maybe not go for it but… I'm sorry for bringing it up again, but Aubrey turned you down, right? And then… and then now Beca—"

"Beca didn't—"

"No, I get it, she didn't _actually_ turn you down but it's almost the same thing, right? You fell for two people who didn't reciprocate." He quickly looks at you apologetically to show that he's not trying to be rude. "But with Beca, it's because she doesn't _know_ that you like her."

"I—what's your point?" you ask, genuinely confused.

"Aubrey told me that she's what's best for Beca, and Beca's best for her. So apparently, to Beca, Aubrey tops me on that list, and to Aubrey, Beca tops _you,_ but what about you and Beca? Where do you stand on _her_ list?"

You frown at him because it's almost like he had been reading your mind earlier (_and also because of his poor choice of words_). But you _know_ this is dangerous territory. You don't _want_ to ask 'what about me?'

"I don't want to ruin anyone's relationship—be it Aubrey and Beca's, or mine and Aubrey's, or mine and Beca's," you say firmly.

"I'm not talking about ruining relationships, I'm talking about getting _closure_."

"How am I supposed to get closure with Beca without _telling her_ that I'm in—that I like her?"

"By getting closure with Aubrey."

You stare at him with your mouth open. "How in the _world_ did you get to _that_ conclusion? I told you I'm not hung up on Aubrey!"

"Just because you're not hung up on her, doesn't mean you got closure," he insists, twisting in his seat to face you. "Look, we know why it's Aubrey, not me, for Beca, and you don't want to know why it's Aubrey, not _you,_ for Beca. Because you might end up telling Beca that you like her, right?"

You nod slowly.

"But you don't know why it's Beca and not you for _Aubrey_. Now _that's_ something you can ask."

"And why would I _want_ to ask that? I don't want to be with Aubrey anymore, let alone take her from Beca."

"Because when you ask _that_, she will inevitably also say why _she and Beca_ make more sense together than anything in the world! So in the end you get to answer why it's Aubrey, not you, for Beca without actually having to ask what Aubrey gave her that you couldn't!"

You frown, trying to follow Jesse's convoluted train of thought.

"And if her answer is something you can accept, then, like Aubrey said, you should be able to love Beca enough to _want_ her to be happy. _There's_ your closure!"

Jesse splays his hands out triumphantly, as though gifting you with the secrets of the universe.

"And if it _doesn't _make sense?" you ask, half-rhetorically because you still think it's kind of a crazy idea.

"Well, to quote you, if you don't believe Aubrey's what's best for Beca, then you go get her—but I know you won't," he adds quickly, seeing the look on your face, "because you don't want to ruin your friendship. It's a risk, I guess, to find out that you could be better for Beca than Aubrey can, and do nothing about it."

"Or I could eliminate the risk altogether by just _leaving it alone_ and going on with my life," you point out.

"Sure," he shrugs. "But you're probably never gonna see them again after graduation. Maybe on a few Bellas reunions, but you're _gonna_ drift apart. Is this the memory you want to have of Aubrey when you do? The girl I wasn't good enough for and who took the 'someone else' I found?"

You study Jesse's face seriously. He looks like he's having fun coming up with this complicated plan for your own closure.

_What's his agenda?_

"What's your aim here, Jesse? Why are you suggesting all of this?"

"I think it's all the movies," he sighs. "To be honest, I'm more intrigued by your romantic story than by mine. And I'm obsessed with closure, I guess. But mine's easy enough to get. Yours isn't, and I want to help you."

"I'm pretty sure there's an easier way to get it. Like, you know, just _leaving it alone_."

"Maybe. But I don't see that happening any time soon."

You think about it.

"You've got a twisted mind, you know that?" you sigh.

"Twisted in a good way?"

"There is no good way to be twisted."

"Fair point. But what are you gonna do?"

"I don't think there's a way to fix being twisted—"

"I meant to get closure!"

You stand up abruptly, because you feel like if you think about this any longer you're just going to back out.

"I'm going to talk to Aubrey."

"Yes!" Jesse jumps up in excitement as you head out of the booth. "I'm going to put on an epic playlist for you, and Luke isn't here to stop me!"

"You're such a dork, you know that?" you yell, yanking the office door open.

You think you hear him say, "Dorks are attracted to other dorks so, by extension, you're a dork, too!" but your mind is already occupied with planning your speech.

* * *

**PART FOUR: SHUT IT DOWN**

You're fairly certain that Beca is still over at your apartment, but it's not that difficult to ask Bree for a minute to talk out in the hallway. After all, you're going to make sure this is as un-dramatic as possible.

You're going to say that you ran into Jesse; that you asked how he was and he mentioned that Aubrey confronted him, and now you just want to hear your best friend's side of it.

Along the way, you'll try to _casually _wriggle out more details on what it was about Beca that she needed so much—if it was something uniquely Beca, or if she just realized recently that she was into girls and you, having asked to soon, were already too late to be considered.

And, using Jesse's depressing predicament as an anchor, have her explain why _she_ and Beca make the most sense—gently nudging her to tell you what _Beca_ really wants.

It's easy, simple, and most importantly, painless. You'll end the conversation with a nod and another "I'm happy for you guys," and you can move on with the comfort that Aubrey is still your best friend, and the knowledge that you either are or aren't meant to be with Beca.

You fish your keys out of your pocket and come home to a surprisingly empty living room. The dinner plates and takeout are still on the coffee table, which make you think that the two didn't finish their date.

You freeze. You didn't actually consider the possibility that they'd be—you know—_having sex_. You never allowed your mind to wander toward that idea ever since the image flashed across your mind when Amy told you the first time.

_Like animals in heat, if I remember correctly._

You close your eyes, fist raised but immobile against Bree's door, and you're rethinking your game plan.

_I mean, it's okay if I get closure tomorrow, right? And worst case scenario, I don't because I'm too afraid of accidentally spilling that I'm in love with her girlfriend and so I—_

A voice cuts off your internal rambling. "Chloe?"

You must look really weird, standing in front of a door with a raised fist and not moving.

You turn your head and see Beca standing there with a mug in her hand and an amused expression on her face.

"I need to talk to Aubrey," you mumble.

"She's went back to campus," Beca chuckles. "She forgot to return a book that was due today so she's over at the library ready to fight the librarian if he claims it's overdue."

"Oh," you say hastily. "Okay then, I'll just—"

"You can hang out with me," Beca suggests eagerly. "We haven't really hung out since the ICCA finals."

That is probably the least thing in the world you are capable of doing at this moment.

"I think I'll just go back to…" You trail off, not really having an end to this sentence. Beca would wonder why you had been hanging out at the radio station without her there, then you'd have to talk to her about Jesse.

Beca raises an eyebrow. "You came home to talk to Aubrey, right? What can you talk to her about that you can't with me?"

"Actually, I think I'll just go to bed—"

"Are you avoiding me?"

"What? No," is your automatic response.

"You've been acting weird—er than usual," she says. "But, like, _seriously_ weird since we came back from New York. And the only thing that's changed since then is… Aubrey and me, so I'm kinda thinking it has something to do with that. Do you not like that Aubrey's—?"

"Beca, I'm sorry. I really am tired," you blurt out quickly. Without waiting another second longer, you rush inside your room and shut the door behind you.

You never knew it could be this suffocating just being near Beca _in your own home_. You try not to think it's because she's here for someone else this time. It also stuns you how much things have changed between you and Beca.

A week ago you were preparing for your final performance in the Bellas, which was secretly a tool to mask Beca's love letter to Jesse. Working on the harmonies and choreo with her was one thing, but seeing her direct those lyrics to a certain Treble in the crowd had been the final nail in the coffin holding any hope that Beca would realize who had been there for her the whole time.

And then came the victory party.

The goddamn party you purposely skipped just so you could study and graduate. It's as if the Universe was taunting you—_"Which would you rather give up?"_ Because you wonder—and you've been wondering ever since—what if _you_ had just been there that night? What if it was you, not Aubrey, who got drunk, gave up her inhibitions, and just went for it?

_What if, what if, WHAT IF._

You run a hand roughly through your hair and pull tightly. It's too much for you to handle right now so you slump against the door and cover your mouth with your hand to muffle the gasps that escape as you allow yourself to break down, for the nth time, over Beca.

"Fine," you hear Beca say right against your door. Her tone is hurt and angry, and it brings you out of your thoughts. "I just thought… after all those times you asked _me_ to 'open up' and I did… that you'd do the same for me."

And of course it happens _now_. _Of course_ you feel everything crashing over you at _this_ moment.

You get up and yank the door open forcefully, just as you did about an hour ago, to find Beca's slightly triumphant face smirking up at you.

But her face falls when she sees your tears. "Chloe—"

"I'm sorry," is the first thing you want to tell her because you know you won't be able to stop the words that are about to come out of your mouth. "I'm so sorry."

_Fuck closure._

"What are you sorry for?" she asks concernedly.

"I love you, Beca."

You're not looking at her, but even if you did you probably couldn't see her anyway through the tears that are clouding your vision.

"But?" she breathes after a short pause. It sounds hopeful, as though she's egging you on to finish the sentence.

You close your eyes and let the tears fall. It's not the response you expected, but to be honest you didn't expect any at all.

"Because that's how it goes, right?" she rambles on. "'I love you, Beca, _but_ you're kind of annoying,' or 'I love you, Beca, _but_ that's a hideous shirt you're wearing.'" she takes in a shaky breath. "You love me but what? What did I do?"

You know she isn't really asking that. She's just trying to stop you from doing what you've committed yourself to doing tonight: figuring out what if.

"But you're with Aubrey now."

Once all the words were out of your mouth, every bitter thought that had been festering at the back of your mind comes rushing forward.

"I've been falling in love with you ever since I met you, Beca. I just didn't want to say anything because I never thought you would feel the same way, and I couldn't risk losing you over it. Then the night of the ICCAs… with what happened with Jesse, I started letting you go." Your voice hitches when you remember how everything came crashing back down that same night. "But then it turned out you wanted Aubrey, and Aubrey wanted you."

You take a deep breath because you don't want to end up confessing something about Aubrey you'll regret. Instead you find yourself saying, "Aubrey goes after what she wants, and she usually always gets it. I may be a bit late—hell, I'm _already_ too late, but I want to give it a shot, too."

Funny how it's a lot less scary to say the things you've held in for so long when you know there's no going back. You imagine this is the sort of ironic freedom people feel when they go into a free-fall to their deaths.

"If there is even _remotely_ a chance that I could be what you need… who you want, Beca," you breathe. "I _beg_ you to consider me. Keep me in the running… Because I would give you my whole world if you let me."

And there it is!

You can take your deep breath now.

You can relax and pat yourself on the back because it's done; the weight is off your shoulders.

Now pack it all up and shut it down because Beca is rejecting you right now.

"—really sorry, Chloe," she's saying. "It's different… with you… I wouldn't know how to…"

Her voice comes in garbled by the sound of your own rapidly beating heart.

_Shut it down._

"… you deserve someone better…"

She won't even try.

_Shut it down._

"I want you to know—I _need_ you to know that I'm not choosing her over you."

She really is, but then, you feel like you knew this all along. This shouldn't hurt you anymore. You have no right.

"I love you, Chloe—"

_Oh, here it is. I love this part— _

"—just not in that way."

_Perfect delivery. Straight to the heart._

You smile through the pain—_I mean, what pain?—_because it's not enough that you're giving up, you have to do it with as little pain for _her_ as possible. She shouldn't have to see you breaking, and feel guilty about it.

Do it for her.

Make sure she's happy.

Make sure she has no regrets.

Love her this one last time... and then let her go.

"I understand," you say diplomatically, almost laughing at yourself for being so submissive.

You avoid her eyes, naturally. For one thing, it's because you can't trust your willpower not to crumble at the sight of her deep blues. But it's also because you're hoping that this way she can't read your own insincere, dead ones.

"I think I'll go."

"No, Chloe, wait," she blocks your way with her arm. "This is your apartment, I should be the one—"

"Just let me go, Beca."

_Ha, the irony!_

"Where are you going?" she asks in concern, you think… you hope.

"I'll be back in a few hours. Just let me go," you repeat. She brings her arm down slowly and you rush forward.

You feel ashamed that, for a brief second, you hoped she would grab you by the arm to stop you again, because you're craving her contact right now. But she just lets you go.

"I get it if you want some time and space," she says sadly before you reach the door to the hallway. "But I really want us to continue being friends… If that's okay with you, of course."

You give in and finally look up into her eyes for just a second before turning back to the door.

_Shut it down._

"Yeah, totes."

She sighs. "Thank you."

You open the door to finally leave but then realize one critical thing. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course. Anything," she says quickly.

"Please don't tell her about this. I'm sure you'd agree that it would just complicate things."

"Uh, yeah, okay. But… you know, it might be good for you to talk to her, too."

"Nothing good will come out of her knowing," you shrug. "Again, I'm so sorry, Beca."

* * *

You hope that Jesse's still at the station so you can laugh about this with him. Laugh about how drastically out of plan things got because silly Aubrey forgot to return a book and you had to be left alone in your own apartment with Beca.

Maybe, if you're lucky, you could even laugh about how offering everything you have wasn't even enough to make her consider before completely shutting you down.

* * *

A/N: Phew. Sorry for the length. Sorry for everything.

And thank you, Guest reviewer, for the reminder to update!


	7. Beca: Please Don't Say You Love Me

A/N: Here's the latest chapter from Beca's POV. Just a heads up, there are three foreseeable chapters left, excluding the epilogue. They are all partially written already so I might be able to finish this story within the week.

* * *

With the coffee table now set up perfectly (according to Aubrey's standards) you venture into her bedroom to prepare the candles when you suddenly hear Aubrey curse from the kitchen.

"Shit!"

It's amusing the way it comes out, as though it wasn't a word that often escaped the blonde's lips.

You pop into the kitchen, see bags of the takeout, and ask, "What's wrong?"

"I forgot to return this book!" she groans, holding up a massive tome that she had fished out of her bag. She does a double take, realizing that it's you standing there. "What are you doing here?"

"Chloe helped me trick you into a date night," you reply automatically. _That book is huge_. "Were you just carrying that around—?"

"That's so sweet but I have to go back to campus and return this first." She checks her watch. "I've got fifteen minutes before the library closes."

"I don't think you'll make it—"

"Oh, I will," she says with a determined huff. "This is the moment that makes four years of cardio worth it."

"_This _is the moment?" you yell incredulously after her as she dashes out into the hall.

You shake your head in amusement and shut the door. The apartment suddenly looks alien to you, and you think it's because you've never actually _looked_ at it before. You were always busy with Chloe, in her room or watching TV, to notice anything.

_Nothing wrong with having a look around._

The wall beside the TV, wallpapered with dozens of photographs of Aubrey and Chloe and the Bellas across the years, is the first place you decide to look.

_Bellas '09… Bellas '10… '11… '12…_

You actually notice the physical changes in Aubrey, from a fresh-faced freshman to a stiff senior. You see the former Bellas captain in the third collage of pictures—Alice, you think her name was. Chloe had told you stories about how she was the worst.

_Chloe didn't seem to mind, though. _

Your friendly neighborhood redhead can be seen smiling radiantly in all their photos. You smile widely when it's her turn to be seen across the years. Chloe looked not much older than sixteen when she started at Barden, which surprises you. Her face was rounder and softer then, but that was not to say she wasn't even more beautiful today.

_Careful._

You have to warn yourself to stay away from those thoughts because it's a dangerous slope you would be on—a slope you thought you had gotten off of already.

Sure, you were attracted to Chloe when you first met—_I mean, who wouldn't be?_—regardless of the fact that she burst into your shower naked, but the more you got to know her, the more you realized what an angel she was.

_Ergo, _way_ out of my league._

And that's okay.

_That's okay._

That's okay because you got to be her friend instead, and that was already more than you deserve from Chloe. Heck, even your dad could see that you were on the path to making absolutely zero friends at Barden (Jesse notwithstanding) until you joined the Bellas. And now you have a bunch of misfit a cappella nerds for friends and, well, a relationship you can finally admit you need.

Things were perfect—things _are_ perfect the way they are right now.

You shake your head and regret even thinking about it in the first place. You blame the silence for that, so you walk over to the radio you had teased them once for having and turned it on. Unsurprisingly, it's tuned in to WBUJ. What did you surprise you, however, is the ridiculous instrumental music playing.

You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee to occupy your hands while you subconsciously come up with beats to go along with the music. As you watch the last of the dark liquid drip into the carafe minutes later, you hear the jingling of keys and see a flash of red hair.

_Chloe?_

You pour the coffee into your mug before following her into the small hallway that leads to their two bedrooms, where you find her comically frozen in front of Aubrey's door with her fist raised.

"Chloe?"

She turns to you ever so slowly and you try not to laugh at how silly she looks.

"I need to talk to Aubrey," she mumbles.

It has only been about half an hour since you last saw her, but she seems so out of it that it makes you wonder if she actually did chat up the bartender downstairs.

_Is she drunk? _

You finally let out an involuntary laugh when you remember the other times you have interacted with an inebriated Chloe Beale.

"She went back to campus," you explain patiently and clearly, for her benefit. "She forgot to return a book that was due today so she's over at the library ready to fight the librarian if he claims it's overdue."

"Oh, okay then, I'll just—"

She seems eager to leave but you think there's no reason for her to, since your date with Aubrey kind of got postponed until Aubrey's return.

"You can hang out with me," you suggest. "We haven't really hung out since the ICCA finals."

That was true. In fact, it was the most number of days you spent not seeing her since the start of Bellas practices.

But Chloe doesn't seem that into it.

"I think I'll just go back to…" she trails off, which makes you wonder where she had been, but not as much as it makes you wonder about Chloe's original intention.

_Maybe she's confused?_

"You came home to talk to Aubrey, right?" you say slowly. "What can you talk to her about that you can't with me?"

You know in your mind that that question is a little unfair. Chloe and Aubrey have been friends longer than you and she have been, so there could be a million things Chloe would rather talk to Aubrey about. But you see now that Chloe looks distressed, not drunk like you first thought, and you want to be there for her.

_Just returning the favor._

"Actually, I think I'll just got to bed—"

You raise your eyebrow. _That is the lamest excuse in the book._

"Are you avoiding me?" you ask, more curious than angry.

"What? No."

"You've been acting weird… er than usual," you add, hoping to lighten things up before they get to wherever they are currently headed. But you can't ignore it anymore, especially after your earlier encounter. "But, like, _seriously_ weird since we came back from the ICCAs. And the only that's changed since then is…" You're thinking out loud now, "Aubrey and me, so I'm _kinda_ worried it has something to do with that."

Your heart leaps into your throat as a horrifying thought enters your mind: maybe Chloe's finally getting sick of having you around, and you stealing her best friend was the last straw.

"Do you not like that Aubrey's—?"

"Beca, I'm sorry. I really am tired," she blurts out rapidly before practically diving into her room and shutting the door behind her.

The slam of the door is still ringing in your ears, bringing with it a feeling of annoyance.

_Look who's shutting people out now._

"Fine," you say into the crack between Chloe's door and its frame, making sure to sound genuinely upset and not sarcastic. "I just thought that after all those times you asked _me_ to 'open up' and I did—" you emphasize the pun "—that you'd do the same for me."

You hear shuffling from behind the door and cross your arms triumphantly as you wait for Chloe to reemerge from her bedroom.

Your smugness disappears the moment you see her tear-stained cheeks and puffy red eyes. It hasn't even been ten seconds since Chloe slammed the door on you, but it looks like she's been crying for days.

"I'm sorry," she gasps.

Your heart starts to thump violently as you wonder what on earth Chloe could have possibly done that would make her think she needed your forgiveness. "What are you sorry for?"

"I love you, Beca."

As though the brakes were slammed on, your heart immediately stops beating. Your eyes instinctively search for hers but they are downcast and so clouded with tears that you can no longer see their blueness.

Without her eyes, you don't know what to believe.

"But…?" you say hopefully.

She closes her eyes and you lose hope.

"Because that's how it goes right?" you say, your voice half an octave higher than it usually is. "'I love you, Beca, _but_ you're kind of annoying.' Or, 'I love you, Beca, _but_ that's a hideous shirt you're wearing.'" Your voice catches in your throat and you take a deep breath. "You love me but what? What did I do?"

_Please don't say you love me._

"But you're with Aubrey now," she finally says. "I've been falling in love with you ever since I met you, Beca…"

Your mind has gone into shock and it feels sort of like you're underwater. You can't even register what she's saying anymore; her voice comes in indistinct warbles and you try but fail to keep a hold on what she's saying.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Chloe was not supposed to fall for you; she wasn't supposed to lean on _you_. You were supposed to lean on her. But you owe it to her—_dammit, why is this happening?!_—to listen, even if it is the most painful thing for you to hear.

You're practically begging her not to be saying those words.

'_Cause I can't say it back_.

"If there is even _remotely _a chance that I can be what you need…" she's saying with a shuddering breath. "Who you want, Beca… I _beg_ you to consider me. Keep me in the running. Because I would give you my whole world if you let me."

It's your turn to close your eyes and take a breath. "Chloe…"

You don't even know how to begin.

"Chloe, you deserve—"

_Not good enough._

"—I don't even _compare_ to—"

_Nope._

"—look, you're amazing—"

For the first time in your life, you wish you had listened to your dad's advice on practicing elocution.

"—you're kind and passionate and funny—"

You stop yourself before you reveal that what you really mean is that someone other than this pale, tiny, emotionally distant wannabe-DJ should _get_ Chloe's whole world. It was the craziest thing in the world to turn her down, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You've convinced yourself of this months ago.

_You would ruin me, Chloe Beale._

"It just… it wouldn't work," you confess. "I'm really sorry, Chloe. It's different… with you… I wouldn't know how to—how to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. You deserve someone better."

You wonder how it's possible to possess such self-destructive behavior—it's Chloe Beale, for God's sake! And you're walking away?

_But I have Aubrey and—_

"Aubrey is… I want you to know—I _need_ you to know—that I'm not choosing her over you."

_But I am._

"I love you, Chloe… just not in that way."

You words hang in the air awkwardly and it takes all of your strength just to look at her in spite of the massive guilt you feel in your gut.

But—_wait, what?_—she's smiling.

"I understand," she says so politely, like a stranger would. "I think I'll go."

Her smile is fake, you realize, and her eyes—not surprisingly avoiding yours—have stopped shining. They were dull and hard.

And in that moment you knew that if you let her go now you would lose her forever. As if to bring life into that metaphor, Chloe starts to make her way out. You don't blame her for wanting to distance herself from you, but the least you could do was give her the comfort of her own bed.

"No, Chloe, wait," you block her way with your arm, "this is your apartment. _I_ should be the one—"

"Just let me go, Beca."

You almost drop your arm right then and there from the sheer tone of her voice. You've never heard it used that way and it scares you. But to hell with that, you need to know she'll be okay. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be back in a few hours. Just let me go."

You glance down briefly to see the corner of her phone sticking out of her pocket. She'll be reachable, at least, so you slowly lower your arm and let her go. She is graceful, even in defeat.

You can't believe _this_ is how it ends. After making sure you would _not_ to fall for her, you end up destroying the friendship you had built up to cherish anyway.

_That's not fair. Not to either of us._

"I get it if you want some time and space," you say, effectively stopping her on her way out. "But I really want us to continue being friends… if—if that's okay with you, of course."

It was, for all intents and purposes, a Hail Mary pass. She would be graduating soon—_I think?_—and leaving Barden; there was no need to hold on to this mess of a friendship.

But to your surprise, she turns and looks back at you. It's too quick, though, so you couldn't read her expression very well. Then she says, "Yeah, totes."

You're flooded with relief and sigh a "Thank you," but you're not that naïve. You know it will take a lot of time before things could get back to the way they were, but at least Chloe was willing to try.

"Can you do me a favor?" she asks suddenly.

"Of course. Anything."

_Anything to keep me from losing you._

"Please don't tell her about this," she says, and you know she means Aubrey. "I'm sure you'd agree that it would just complicate things."

"Uh, yeah, okay," you say, a little disconcerted because Chloe never spoke to you as formally as she just did. It almost feels like a joke; like you're just doing serious impressions and she'll go back to being all goofy after you've had a laugh. You can already feel her beginning to distance herself from you and, surprisingly, it already hurts a lot. "But, you know, it might be good for you to talk to her, too."

"Nothing good will come out of her knowing," she replies, and there goes your hope that you wouldn't drive a wedge between the two best friends. "Again, I'm so sorry, Beca."

Before you can say anything else, she's out the door.

* * *

Silence.

That bastard is back again, threatening to make you think things you don't want to.

You don't actually realize the radio is still playing until you hear Jesse's voice greeting the listeners and announcing the next song. You wish your mind didn't drift in that direction, though, toward—

_Jesse, A.K.A., the other person whose heart I broke this week._

You walk over to the radio and turn it off in the middle of Jesse's spiel. You don't feel like adding more to your guilty plate. You sit on the couch and hunch over, burying your face in your hands, trying to simultaneously forget and make sense of what just happened.

You don't know how long you're sitting there, rewinding the last few minutes and trying to reconcile the fact that you had just been confessed to by your best friend, who also happened to be your current somewhat-girlfriend's best friend.

You worry about how your reaction—_your __rejection_—might have appeared to Chloe, whether she understood your reasons for turning her down. You don't think, or rather, you hope, it wouldn't surprise her since you _did_ just get together with Aubrey.

_Speak of the devil—I mean, no, not the devil!_

For the third time that night you hear the jingle of keys in the hallway. Aubrey bursts into the apartment, panting but otherwise looking extremely pleased with herself.

"The jerk tried to slap on a late fee but I showed him," she announces. She pauses, seeing you with your face in your hands. "Beca?"

You look up, ready to mask the look of exhausted contemplation but, as it turns out, there's no reason to put too much effort.

You can't count the number of times you've seen Aubrey _genuinely_ happy in the past year, which makes it so rare and so pleasantly blinding when you see her that excited about returning a freaking book on time. You laugh so hard you actually snort.

"What is up with you?" she asks quizzically.

You extend your hand to invite her over to the couch and pull her down next to you. You gently brush a loose lock of her golden hair away from her face—you barely notice the lack of a cringe coming from you over that cheesy gesture—and press your lips together.

_This feels right._

When you pull apart, her eyes open slowly. "I take it you missed me."

You don't have time to come up with a quip; you have to tell her while the emotions are still fresh. "I'm glad you chose to tell me how you feel." She needs to know this. "I really feel good about this—about us."

Aubrey's perfectly shaped eyebrow rises. "What is up with you?" she repeats. "Did something happen while I was gone?"

You shake your head—as a way to both answer her and rid your mind of the events. You need to focus on _this_ relationship, no matter how much collateral damage it has caused so early in its life. "Although you _did_ kind of ruin the date I so tirelessly planned for."

"Oh, did I?" Aubrey looks behind her at the coffee table, where you had arranged the plates and glasses earlier.

"Yeah, I mean, the food is cold and everything…"

Aubrey turns back to you with a wicked smirk. "Well then," she stands up and pulls you by the hand toward her bedroom. "I guess I'll have to give you something else to eat."

Your mouth drops. "Did you just make a dirty joke?"

"I did." She scrunches her nose. "I don't care for it."

* * *

"I actually do know one more dirty joke."

You stop tracing your finger across Aubrey's back, confused by the non sequitur—although, to be fair, nothing much has been said in the past hour other than moans and other sexual noises. "Huh?"

"Another dirty joke." Aubrey shifts from being on her stomach to being on her side and holds the blanket to her chest. "Wanna hear it?"

"Go for it," you say as you move your fingers up to her collarbone instead.

"What's the difference between a hooker and a drug dealer?"

You pause to give it a think. It probably has something to do with selling, but you play along and ask, "What?"

"A hooker can still wash her crack and resell it."

You groan in both disgust and amusement. "That's so vulgar. So o_f course_ it's the only other joke you know."

"Chloe told me that joke," she defends with a chuckle.

Your gut feels like it just got punched. You struggle to keep a smile on but your fingers have suddenly backtracked, away from Aubrey's skin and onto your own. You don't want to be reminded of Chloe and you wish Aubrey wouldn't dwell on her, either. But judging by her tone, Aubrey intended that joke to segue into—

"So Chloe helped you set this up, huh?"

You nod weakly.

"I bet she told you exactly what I wanted from a date," she smiles.

You smile, too, in spite of yourself. "Set the table perfectly, dim the lights, water with cucumber and basil… uh, candles in the bedroom… Oops." You look sheepishly around her bedroom. You forgot to light the candles. "And—rats, I forgot The Bachelorette. I couldn't find you a single-stemmed rose in time, sorry."

Aubrey laughed. "That was so spot on I'm actually flattered." Her expression changes. "And maybe a little guilty."

_Guilty?_

She looks at you uncomfortably. "I don't know if you've ever heard the—I mean, Barden's a pretty small campus, you probably _have_ heard—"

"Heard what?"

"A rumor," she says hesitantly. "About Chloe and me."

Your heart leaps into your throat.

_Holy shit._ _No. No, no, no—_

"Relax, nothing happened!" Aubrey must have seen the look on your face because she sat up on her elbow urgently. "It was just a rumor—perpetuated by the Trebles, of course, to get people to think of the Bellas differently—"

You vaguely remember hearing some insinuations to that effect when you first got involved with the Bellas, but you chalked it up to society not being mature enough to accept the idea of an all-female group without having to degrade it into something sexual.

_Bunch of misogynists,_ you used to think of them.

"But if it's just a rumor…" you say slowly. "Why should you feel guilty?"

Aubrey relaxes back down and faces the ceiling. "The rumor was that we hooked up, and that wasn't true. But most rumors come out of some truth, and this one's was that… Chloe kind of liked me back in freshman year. Like, _like _liked me."

You know Aubrey used the alliteration to lighten the weight of her revelation, but it isn't working on you—especially considering what had just happened moments ago. Your gut lurches again because, obviously, things went awry for Chloe.

"You turned her down," you say—half as a question, half as a statement.

Aubrey looks remorseful. "Back then I said it was because I wasn't comfortable with... the idea of being with a girl."

You nod, feeling that monster in your gut start to grow.

"She was my roommate and practically my only friend in college," Aubrey continues. "I was so scared it would ruin _everything_. I expected her to request a dorm change and never speak to me again. It got so bad I stress-vomited the whole night."

She has a faraway look in her eyes, which makes you think this is the first time she's coming to terms with these memories.

"But she didn't. She found me, held my hair back, and wiped the sweat off my face like she always did." She bites down at her quivering bottom lip and smiles up at you with shining eyes. "She said I was overreacting, said she wouldn't leave me just because I didn't like her that way. Ever since then… I knew we'd be best friends forever. It sounds so junior high but I really do think that. Chloe's just that kind of person, you know?"

You nod once again. You're literally speechless because nothing you can say can make you feel better about yourself right now.

"I guess I feel guilty because after all these years, Chloe still cares enough to know what I want from my dates… while I never even gave her a second thought."

_I may not be able to make myself feel better, but maybe I can make her feel better._

"I don't think you have to feel guilty about all that," you say quietly. "Like you said, Chloe's just that type of person. The type who remembers stuff like that—"

And who bakes you a jar of cookies on your birthday after knowing you for only a month—_and who makes sure to remind all the_ _members of your a cappella group to sing 'Happy Birthday' during practice._

"—whether or not you're in a relationship with her."

You say that like you want it to be true. It has to be, otherwise you are the dimmest person in the world. Somehow you already know that you are.

Aubrey looks sufficiently comforted and moves closer to you. You lie back down and let her rest her head on your shoulder while you think about whether it's a good idea to ask her how Chloe reacted when she found out about the two of you getting together.

In the end, you decide you don't want to know.

* * *

"There's something else."

You almost jump in surprise. You thought Aubrey had fallen asleep. "What is it?"

"On my way here—the first time, before the library—I ran into Jesse."

_Oh._

"Okay, maybe not 'ran into' as much as 'shoved him into a janitor's closet and confronted him about us' kind of thing."

You can't help but smile widely at the image. "Classic Posen, goes straight for the jugular."

"He didn't want to talk to me at first, that's why I had to do it," she explains. "Y'know, he really is a good guy."

You look at her curiously. "What did you talk about?"

"Well, I told him I was sorry, of course, for everything. And I told him… I told him that I was better for you." She blushes as she says it out loud and your heart swells.

When Jesse accused you of not giving him a chance to prove that he could give you what Aubrey could, you yourself have been trying to discern why you chose her. So it's a bit of a surprise that your reply is automatic:

"You are."

You see the answer more clearly now, and you think that may be thanks to Chloe, of all people.

"I know this relationship didn't start off in the best way… people got hurt because of it—"

You realize your slip-up and hope to God Aubrey thinks you used the word 'people' in the general sense.

"—but you and me, I mean, we're not perfect, obviously. And I think that's what makes us work so well."

_This is the difference._

"Jesse is… a great guy. But it's for that reason I don't think it ever would have worked out. I felt like shit when we fought after semis and… it was all _my_ fault. He didn't do anything wrong. It was on me to apologize and make up with him. As much as I know I deserved it… I don't think that's a good basis for our relationship—Jesse trying to fix me, the fuck up."

Aubrey looks at you with a slightly angry frown on her face. You realize you never really talked to her about Jesse. Why would you? She doesn't know about his whole 'getting you to love movies' shtick.

"It was well-intentioned," you say quickly before Aubrey regrets apologizing to Jesse, "but being with someone perfect when _you're_ not isn't right."

As you say this, you're no longer thinking about Jesse.

"You frustrate me, Aubrey Posen." You shake your head with a smile. "You were everything I rebelled against yet I couldn't tear myself away from you—and believe me, I tried. But because, I don't know, the heart and the brain aren't connected... I _want_ to be with you."

Aubrey smiles. "I think you're getting better at being eloquent."

_Ha. If only it kicked in earlier tonight._

"See? I'm already being a better version of myself when I'm with you." You turn to your side and face her. "But I'm serious, I _want_ to be with you. It's not about what's best for me or what's best for others—not anymore." And you look at her, all of her. "It's just about what you mean to me."

* * *

**Response to reviews:**

**Guest** and **guest**(Aug. 13) - Since it's not a spoiler anymore, I guess I can say that the story is Mitchsen, but the focus is on Chloe as a character, where Bechloe is a complicated thing haha.

**Alice** (Nov. 5) - Thanks for reading despite the scarce reviews! Haha. And thank you so much, I hope I continue to deliver. :)

**bilbobarneybobs** (Jan. 31) - I've been thinking of updating ever since your PM haha. It's three chapters 'til the epilogue and I'm excited to get there! Thank you, I like writing from different points of view but I have to admit, I really struggled through Beca's. (See below haha.)

* * *

A/N: So I figured out why I find it so difficult to write from Beca's POV. It's 'cause I really don't see Mitchsen happening. That is not to say that Beca and Aubrey don't end up together (because, clearly, they already have) in this story, but it explains why the Beca chapters are, in my eyes, the most awkward to read and write; I can't empathize with her.

P.S. I'm not totes against the Mitchsen ship though.


	8. Luke: An English Breakfast

**A/N: **For those wondering why Luke is listed as a main character, here's a short chapter from his POV.

* * *

_Thump-thump-THUMP._

You turn away from the stack of records you're inspecting—_bloody interns can't get their genres right—_and see the familiar silhouette of a woman with wavy hair holding up two steaming cups of what you _hope_ is proper English tea. You walk over to the studio door and push it open.

"To what do I owe this very late pleasure of your visit, madam?" you greet with your signature smirk.

If it had been any other person, you would have told them to fuck off. But this is Chloe Beale, your best—_and pretty much only_—friend in Barden.

_It also helps that she's bringing me tea in the middle of the night._

"What, I can't swing by the radio station on a weekend to bring my best _mate_ a cup of his favorite tea?" she says, overemphasizing her accent on the word 'mate' like she always does.

You squint your eyes at the cup. "English Breakfast?"

"Yes, you stereotypical Englishman!" she says exasperatedly. "It is English Breakfast. And I _specifically _told them to pour the milk first, just the way you like it!"

She holds the cup out to you expectantly. You roll your eyes and reach out. The moment your skin touches the cardboard sleeve, however—

"Great, now you owe me one!"

"_Chloe._"

"I just need the roof deck," she says quickly. "I'll be careful! Not like last time…"

"You mean the time you ruined my Japanese water fountain?"

You are very protective of the rooftop garden you have worked hard to cultivate since the day the University gave you access and control over all this building's facilities. You are even more protective of it whenever Chloe feels the urge to tinker with every little thing she finds.

"I said I was sorry! I didn't think moving it a _little_ bit would ruin the whole thing!"

"It's called balance, Chloe, I don't understand why you would—"

"Okay, this could go on forever!"

You smile because you very well know how these conversations go. You have your back and forth until eventually Chloe pulls out the big guns.

"Please, Luke? I really need it tonight."

_Wait. No big blue, puppy dog eyes? No overly cutesy voice? Worst of all, no pout?_

You look at her normally bright blue eyes and instead find pleading blue pools.

_Uh-oh. She's not handling it as well as she's been pretending to._

She turns away so you can't see her eyes anymore. You're familiar with this tactic of hers so you just walk over to your desk inside the booth and throw her the keys wordlessly. She rushed up to you and gives you a peck on the cheek as thanks while you lean against the doorframe, eyes following her as she ascends the staircase leading to your precious roof.

The cheeriness that had filled the room when she arrived earlier is now replaced by a soul-sucking sadness that can only come from a broken heart.

You turn back inside the booth and begin lining up a couple of songs. As a radio DJ, you always imagine the effect the music you play has on the listener. You imagine who's listening, what they're doing, and what the music means to them. It may be a song whose lyrics never meant anything to you until one particular moment when it matches up with your life, or just an upbeat song that you can almost feel pumping through your veins. The right song at the right time, you think, can change the way you feel about things.

Tonight you're hoping your playlist works its magic on the girl upstairs.

Once you're confident that the lineup could last a solid hour, you follow Chloe's footsteps and head to the roof, currently illuminated by a few street lamps and the moonlight.

You find her leaning against the ledge, staring out. You're certain she's in deep thought and not really looking at anything because Barden doesn't provide that much of a view, which is why you designed your rooftop garden to look perfect, even at night.

You press on a light switch near the staircase and the lights flicker on in succession. You are quite proud of the result of your eccentric collection of lamps, light bulbs, and Christmas lights. The garden was now a majesty of color, but it was a kind of majesty that was not imposing but rather soothing. The colors were not vibrant; they were twinkling with some sort of magical wisdom.

Chloe turns around when she notices the change in illumination and, like your garden, her face lights up.

"Wow, Luke! This is beautiful…" She looks around with her mouth gaping in awe. "I can't believe you did this."

You shrug humbly at her praise.

"Back in England, I lived in this boring neighborhood where rich, old, business people lived," you explain as you approach her. "They never seemed to have the time to decorate their houses during Christmas so our street looked as dull as ditchwater. One day my sister and I asked our parents for money and we went around the shops buying all sorts of colorful lights. We hung them around our house and lit them up every night, even when it wasn't the holidays."

"That's so cute," she smiles.

"If anyone ever asks, I'm telling them that you did this," you say quickly, gesturing around your majestic garden. "In exchange, you get to come here whenever you like."

"Deal," she laughs.

You know she's not going to start talking without a little coaxing so you take matters into your own hands and get straight to the point. "Why are you here, Chloe?"

She looks at you with a confused expression that you don't buy. It's nearly midnight on a Friday; Chloe, being Chloe, would have better things to do than hang around her radio DJ friend. Seeing your raised eyebrows, she slumps her shoulders and sighs.

"Aubrey… has a visitor." She leans back against the ledge, facing you and your garden of lights.

You join her over there and mimic her position. Seeing it from this angle, you feel a twinge of pride that your rooftop garden is indeed a better view than Barden's campus at night.

"I'm sorry," you offer, because it's the only thing you can. "That must be tough."

She doesn't answer right away.

"I couldn't… I just wish they didn't have so much fun, you know." She lets out a bitter laugh, something that you decide you never want to hear from Chloe again. "It's like they're rubbing it in my face—but I know they're not. They're just really happy. I have no right."

You see her eyes begin to water, and she glances up and takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

_Silly girl, you don't need to put on a brave face for me._

"After…" She breathes deeply again. "After that night, I wondered… if I had told her sooner—before the finals, like you said…" She waves a hand at you. You can feel the painful regret from her words.

"But, oh," she continues in a forcedly dull tone. "It doesn't matter, because even if I did, she doesn't want me. Apparently we're too different."

You give her a questioning look—_you told her?_

The sad, watery smile you get in return tells you that the answer is a yes, and also that it didn't end well.

"You idiot!" you groan.

"Wow, thanks for that, _best friend_."

"I thought you were all right with it? After your talk with Amy, didn't you say you were going to give them a shot? Why all of a sudden would you tell her? You know it only could have ended badly."

She just shakes her head miserably. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted answers… Jesse said—"

"You took _Jesse's_ advice?" you chastise her.

Chloe throws her hands up exasperatedly. "He wanted me to get closure."

You shake your head in disappointment.

"But what I don't get is," she suddenly continues in frustration, "her reasons for not wanting to be with me. _I deserve better?_ What the fuck does she know?"

She runs a hand through her hair and grips it tightly—_painfully_.

"But I _can't_ think like that! Aubrey is my best friend, and she _is_ good for Beca… They challenge each other."

The soft chuckle she emits is another nastily bitter one, as though she doesn't want to believe what she's saying.

"What I tried to be for both of them, they found in each other," she says quietly. "That's what hurts the most because where does that leave me? I know it's selfish to even think this but—who's looking out for me, Luke?"

Her voice wavers at the question and she finally breaks down. You reach out and catch her in your arms before she sinks to the ground. She grabs the front of your shirt and cries into your chest.

"My heart is breaking… and I can't tell the people closest to me because they're the cause of it. And it's selfish to include them in my pain," she sniffs in between sobs. "What am I supposed to do, Luke?"

"Well, first, you cry," you say, as though it's the most obvious thing. "You're allowed to feel hurt, Chloe. You're not being selfish."

A fresh wave of sobs overcomes her and you patiently, gently rub her back until she's calmed down.

"Next, you smack yourself on the head for forgetting that your best _guy_ friend is always just a radio station away." You kiss the top of her head fondly. "I'm _always_ looking out for you, Chloe."

The arm wrapped around your torso tightens affectionately.

"Sidebar: a _lot_ of other guys are probably looking at you, too, so don't turn to them in your current state of emotional distress," you lecture. "That means no sleeping around."

"Well, there goes my weekend…"

You poke her in the ribs to show that you're serious.

_At least she's got her sense of humor back._

"Ow! Don't worry, I won't," she amends.

"Good." She's still pressed against your chest so you look down and brush a clump of hair that stuck to her wet cheek. "Finally, you start moving on, not necessarily by forgetting _her_ but by remembering _you_. You were a half decent person when we met four years ago—" You get a poke in your own ribs for that. "—and nothing's changed. Remember what it's like to _not_ be in love. Remember what it's like to be excited for your own self. Remember the life you had before Beca Mitchell."

You let your words sink in while playing with a lock of her hair.

"You know, if this whole DJ thing doesn't work out for you, you could write for Cosmo in their 'Sex &amp; Relationships' department."

You laugh, causing her head to jerk off your chest. "Hey, it's Ground Force or nothing."

You go on to explain to a confused Chloe the secret world of competitive gardening in British reality TV, and also how you managed to light up the roof deck all by yourself. You keep talking about random gardening-related things until her laughs gradually become more genuine, and sooner than later you're both in stitches imagining ridiculous scenarios when gardening could be a useful skill.

Things quiet down naturally and Chloe ends up falling asleep on your lap. Running your hand through her hair is as comforting for you as it is for her, which is why you're also starting to doze off. But you shake away the sleepiness, remembering that you still have a 24-hour radio station to run. You lift her in your arms and carry her down the stairs carefully. It doesn't look like she'll be waking up until the morning so you lay her on the couch you keep in the booth and cover her up with a poncho a previous date left behind.

* * *

You hear the door to the station click shut and look up from the screen of your laptop, currently open to the station's Twitter feed. Natalie Cole's '_This Will Be_' is playing as part of the station's morning playlist.

"Hey, Jesse," you yell, greeting the freshman currently placing his bag on the table beside the door.

The eager brunette skipped toward the booth and stopped at the door, dangling his heels off the short steps excitedly. Clearly your 'no freshmen allowed in the booth' rule sticks.

"Hey, dude, so am I still up for today?"

You recently gave Jesse his own morning segment on WBUJ where he discusses and plays music in films. To be honest, you're giving it to him as a distraction from what happened with Becky but you can't deny the guy has the talent and charm, and you wouldn't be surprised if his segment became successful. Plus, it only seems fair that you give both your freshmen interns a shot at the booth. Call it growth on your part.

"Yeah, you go on at half past eight, just after the morning playlist," you turn back to your laptop and frown at a follower's recent reply. "If this does well we can move you to a better slot. Are you free over the summer?"

He doesn't answer so you take a glance toward the door and see Jesse eyeing the couch.

"Is that…?"

"Oh, yeah, that's Chloe," you say indifferently, turning back to the screen. "From the Bellas."

"Yeah, I'm familiar," he says in a hushed tone. "What is she doing here? Was she waiting for me?"

You snort involuntarily. "No, she was here last night."

"What for—wait, did you two hook up?"

"No, mate, she's like my sister," you recite dully. You've been asked this so many times when going out with Chloe that you've decided to come up with a standard reply. "Could you come here and deal with this Twitter thing?"

"Shouldn't you turn the music down? Chloe might wake up," he says as he leans over your shoulder.

"Nah, she's slept through the bomb threat in our sophomore year; a little loud music wouldn't—it was just a hoax!" you quickly clarify in response to Jesse's alarmed expression. "But yeah, everyone had evacuated campus and she was just dozing away and missed around thirty calls. Aubrey was _livid_."

"Oh, so you're friends with Aubrey, too?" Jesse says dryly.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "So is this going to be a 'friend of my enemy is an enemy' kind of thing?" you smirk. "Whatever it is that's going on with your personal lives, leave me out of the mess."

"Right. Sorry," he says sheepishly.

"But that does remind me…" You glance at the clock. "Chloe has a meeting with her career counselor in an hour, I should probably wake her."

You get off your chair and approach the sleeping redhead. You pinch her nose—a brutish but effective method of waking her up—and let her bat your hand away.

"_Luke!_ I asked you to stop doing that!" she groans. She takes a moment to rub her nose before throwing the poncho off. "Ooh, this is nice. Whose is this?"

"Some girl I went on a date with last term. Jesse's here, by the way."

She shoots up in embarrassment and uses her hand to comb through her bed hair.

"Oh! Hi, Jesse!" She give him a wave, which he returns. You wonder if they had spoken since he gave her that terrible advice. "Sorry for, well, ruining your morning."

"No, no. It started off with WBUJ's awesome morning playlist so I'll definitely be in a good mood all day," he grins.

She puts on an impressed look and turns to you. "You've trained him well."

The three of you share a brief laugh. This moment ranks pretty high on the most awkward things to have happened during your stay in America, so you end it early. "Chloe? Your meeting?"

"Oh, right. I better go then. Where are my shoes?"

You nod toward the shelf beside the couch. "Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?"

"Nah, I think I'll grab some breakfast and just head straight to it. Thanks anyway." She pecks you on the cheek as a goodbye. "Nice seeing you, uh, again, Jesse." She turns to wave at him but pauses at his amused expression. "What?"

"This is so weird. Are you sure you two aren't dating? You seem very close."

"Gross, no! He's like my brother!"

_Gross? That's a new addition to the script._

"Gross?" you ask with a raised brow.

She rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean. Although I _have_ seen your penis."

"_What! When?_" you and Jesse both screech, although yours is more in shock and his is more in amusement.

You scowl at the freshman, not really liking the direction this conversation is taking. Chloe is unraveling your calm and cool persona.

"The chubby baby pictures your mom showed me."

_And she's making it worse._

"_Okay!_ I think I will walk you out now." You curl your fingers around her upper arm and drag her outside the booth. "And _you_," you turn to Jesse, who immediately wipes the laugh off his face, "a little less Gossip Girl and a little more Mad Men, if you please. Fix that Twitter thing."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

* * *

Chloe only stops cackling once you're outside.

"Not cool, ginger biscuit. You're completely ruining my reputation—in front of a _freshman_ no less!"

"I'm sorry," she says, still smiling. "What was that Twitter thing?"

"Oh, it's just another follower wondering why I keep turning down his requests."

"Well, why do you?"

"I don't think the artist is respectable."

"If you only play the music of respectable artists you'd be left with a pretty unpopular library," she jokes. "But seriously, you run a radio station whose tagline is 'Music for the Independent Mind.' Don't you think your listeners have the right to make their own musical decisions?"

_That's quite a good point._

"I knew I shouldn't have told you about it," you grumble and she laughs. "And sorry, by the way, for not waking you up earlier. I completely forgot I gave Jesse the eight AM segment."

"No, that's okay. I don't feel that awkward around Jesse anymore," she says, hooking her arm around your elbow as you begin walking to the campus administration buildings.

"Is it because you saw how much of a wimp he really is?"

"Don't be mean! He's just sensitive. You could learn a thing or two from him."

"What?" you scoff. "I'm a proper gentleman! How can you say I'm not sensitive?"

"Well, for one thing, you shouldn't call a girl an _idiot_ when she's breaking under the pressure of a heartbreak," she says with a punch to your arm.

You pretend it hurts; she laughs. It's your thing.

"I did it because I know you, Chloe Beale, and I always know what you need and when you need it," you smirk down at her. "Last night, you needed tough love, so I gave it to you. Now, don't you feel better after all that?"

Chloe lifts her chin defiantly. "Not as much as if you told me that I'm the smartest, prettiest person in the whole universe and that everything I do is a testament to my awesomeness."

You shake your head in amusement and take a quick glance around. It's eight o'clock on a Saturday morning; the campus is empty.

"Very well, then." You clear your throat to begin your overdramatic declaration. "Chloe Beale, you are the _wisest_, most _beautiful_ woman from this side of the universe to the other. Every _awesome_ move you make takes my breath away—"

You stop talking so loudly when you turn a corner and spot a familiar face.

"Aubrey?"

The blonde turns around and sighs in relief. "Chloe! I've been looking for you all morning!"

You watch as Aubrey darts forward and wraps Chloe in a hug. Chloe gives you a confused look over Aubrey's shoulder. "Is everything all right, Bree?"

"You tell me!" Aubrey pulls back and her voice is immediately scolding. "You haven't been answering your phone!"

_What a coincidence—this is just like the day of the bomb threat._

"This is the second night in a row you haven't spent at home, I was worried," Aubrey says in that shrill voice of hers. "Where have you been—?" She turns to you with her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

You hold out your hand politely like the gentleman you claim to be. "Yes, hi, I'm Luke. We've actually met several—"

"Aren't you Beca's boss?"

"Ah. Yes, that's what I'm best known by around here, actually. I sometimes go by Jesse's boss, too."

Chloe stifles a giggle and warns you with a look. You don't know why you added the bit about Jesse. Maybe it was to punish Aubrey just a little bit.

Aubrey looks unfazed, however, gives you a once-over, and—_after she deems me worthy, I assume—_turns back to Chloe. "Are you going through something right now, Chloe?" she asks in concern.

Chloe puts on a reassuring expression and insists, "No! I just wanted to give you and Beca some space to be intimate, you know?"

You give Chloe two thumbs up from behind Aubrey's back to tell her that it was a great response. Chloe smiles at you again, which causes Aubrey to turn back to you with a calculating look.

"We're just friends," you say, finally clearing the tension between you and your best friend's best friend. "I was walking her to the counselor's office—"

"That's why I came looking for her," she says, not taking her eyes off you. "I wanted to make sure she didn't miss her appointment because," she turns back to Chloe and says in a much softer tone, "Chloe, you're my best friend and I'll always be looking out for you, no matter who I date. You don't need to give me and Beca space; part of the reason this works is because we're all each other's best friends, right?"

You watch Chloe carefully for her reaction—

It's a soft nod and a smile. "Right."

You let out the breath you've been holding while the two women embrace each other once more. You catch Chloe's eye over Aubrey's shoulder and smile.

_See? Things are going to be just fine for you._

Her eyes have a bittersweet softness to them and you know that it's her way of letting you know that she's thinking the same.

* * *

**A/N: **I combined the last two chapters into one so there's only the next chapter + Epilogue left. And then I can finally be done with this story!

Thank you, **Alice**, for the review. :)


	9. ABC: Graduation

**A/N**: I tried, but I don't think I can save them anymore. I'll let you be the judge.

* * *

_Two months later..._

* * *

**AUBREY**

Even with your eyes closed, you know that when you do eventually open them, the glare of the sunlight coming in through your window is going to hurt like hell, so you keep them closed for a moment longer.

The picture that forms behind your eyelids is of the dinner last night with Chloe and your parents.

The evening had gone as you expected: your father talked proudly of your achievements and lauded the school you were about to enter in the fall while your mother tried to bring the conversation down to a less intense level and, when she inevitably failed, struck up a conversation with Chloe instead. And you had more than a respectable number of glasses of wine—which explains why you're slightly hungover right now.

You're glad Beca couldn't be there to witness the "new and relaxed" you tighten up again. It also might have been awkward for her to hear your father drawing up five-, ten-, and thirty-year plans for your life when the both of you have just agreed to keep things between you "open-ended" for now.

There is still that August deadline, of course, but with Beca staying on at Barden, plus three more years of schooling for the both of you…

_Open-ended, right?_

It's not exactly the Posen way of doing things, but you're happy.

You think the dull pounding in your head might ease up if you clear your mind so you continue to lie quietly in bed for a while, letting your closed eyes slowly adjust to varying degrees of light, until you hear a soft knock on the door.

"Bree?"

"Come in," you say hoarsely. _I need a drink._

And there to answer your prayer is Chloe. "Here. Drink plenty; we need to start getting ready soon."

You open your eyes and simultaneously take in a deep breath.

_We're graduating today. Right._

That's why your parents are in town.

You reach out and take the glass from Chloe with a grateful smile. She sits down on your bed while you drain it and looks at you amusedly.

"What?" you ask, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Nothing," she smiles, "it's just nice to see the shoe on the other foot now."

You glare at her playfully. "Please, this doesn't _compare_ to the mornings I've had to literally drag you out of bed and into the shower."

"Mor_ning_." Chloe emphasizes its singularity. "It only happened once, and that was technically _your _fault."

You sit up straighter and gape at her. "_My_ fault?"

She brings both legs up on the bed and crosses them under her. "Yeah! Remember? You tricked me into a drinking game betting on who would win The Bachelorette when you already _knew_ who won."

"That was _you_."

"Oh."

You exchange looks and burst out laughing.

"Then why _was_ I that drunk?" she asks you with a curious frown.

You prop your head on your hand and look at Chloe, trying to visualize her being as wasted as you remember her to have been that night. You're sure it wasn't a casual drinking scenario; something must have happened beforehand—

You snap your fingers. "It was when you messed up your first solo during rehearsals so Patrice gave it to Alice."

Chloe covers her face in her hands and groans, presumably remembering it all. "Oh, god. It's all coming back to me."

You laugh and offer as a consolation, "Well, you had the right. I would've been upset, too."

She lifts her face from her hands and grins evilly. "That's true, I _did_ have the right to get wasted that night. It's not like I got drunk at an innocent freshman mixer—"

You gasp and blush in embarrassment. "Shut up! A _lot _of people got drunk that night—someone spiked the punch!"

But Chloe is too busy laughing to care. "You didn't have to keep drinking though! You kept arguing with me, telling me that if you drink enough juice," she scrunches her face trying to remember, "the pressure inside your body will squeeze through your pores and make you float in the air."

You shake your head. "Not one of my better moments…"

She gives you a skeptical look. "Actually…"

"Okay enough! I don't want to play this game anymore."

She laughs and shakes her head. "We've had a pretty tame four years of college though, if you think about it. The Bellas are probably on top of the list of the most awesome things I've accomplished in my entire life."

You feign a gasp and put a hand on your chest. "Not _aca-_awesome?"

She plays along and covers her mouth, looking scandalized. "Oh, no! The aca-gods are going to curse me."

You both burst into a fit of giggles again. "Why did we ever think adding 'aca' to everything was cool?"

"I have no idea," she sighs. "Could you have ever imagined, back in freshman year, that we'd be _this_ obsessed with synchronized lady dancing and making music with our mouths?"

You give it a thought—that first day stepping into campus, carrying your bags up to your dorm, and finally opening the door to find an excitable redhead decorating her side of the room. You remember that sinking feeling in your stomach when you thought about how you'd have to interact everyday with someone who still kept Westlife posters in 2008; the feeling made only worse when she had let out a squeal and hugged you despite meeting for the first time.

"I totally see _you _getting obsessed," you say with a dreamy smile, "based on a first impression that turned out to be spot on."

Chloe has a similar look on her face, only smugger. "Oh, you tried to look all high and mighty but I knew, deep down, you'd be just as into it as I was. You couldn't deny _your_ toner for cutthroat competitions and intense physical and emotional torture. All it took was a nerve-wracking audition process to win you over."

You laugh out loud because Chloe is absolutely right. Like a junkie, you were dependent on the very thing that was killing you: stress. You were never _not_ under it; and you loved it.

_But, hey, it yielded good results._ _Most of the time._

"God, it feels so weird not to have to care about a cappella and the Bellas anymore…"

Chloe looks at you with a bittersweet look in her eyes. "We're a sisterhood, remember? This," she gestures between the two of you, "is _forever_."

What you actually meant was that it would be weird not to be obsessing over arrangements, choreography, and regionals anymore, but what Chloe just said makes you think.

The Bellas _are _a sisterhood. With the exception of Alice and her posse, you're actually still on pretty friendly terms with your former Bella sisters. They gave you advice on which classes to take and which professors to avoid; and based on their Facebook posts, they still hung out frequently among themselves. So you kind of took it for granted that in terms of relationships, nothing much would change after graduation. Sure, there will be those few who eventually outgrow the Bellas but…

_Chloe is forever._

She is more than a Bella sister—that's clearer to you now than it has ever been. The term 'best friend' gets tossed around so much that it, too, doesn't really suffice. You know that this year has been a particularly bad one for your friendship, what with being under the stress of Pukegate and the burden bringing the Bellas back to the championships, but Chloe has always been there for you.

She is—but soon will no longer be—your safe place; the only constant and _consistent_ aspect of your recent life that you can actually see working out in the long run. You love Chloe.

_No, not in a romantic way._

You love her the way a person would love someone who confesses her feelings to you, gets turned down, and becomes your best friend in spite of that.

_Never heard of someone like that? Good for you. If you have, then you know what I'm talking about._

It has something to do with trust, you think. It seems childish now but after that fateful December morning three and half years ago when she kissed you—_yes, in a romantic way_—under the mistletoe and you stopped her, you were sort of expecting… revenge. Backlash. Consequences. Something that would balance things between the two of you.

But nothing ever came. Chloe had been very understanding and, after a brief adjustment period, things just back to the way they were. They balanced. And that's why you love her and trust her; she has the capacity to keep loving without asking for anything in return. That kind of person _is_ forever.

"Hello? Earth to Aubrey?"

You snap out of your trance and adjust your position to relieve the ache in your arm.

"You were out of it for like a whole minute," she says with a tilt of her head. "What were you thinking about?"

You pause. "Forever."

She smiles, probably getting graduation vibes from the word, and you ask, "Were you being serious about taking off with your parents after graduation?"

Chloe's parents are nature photographers who basically travel the globe taking really amazing shots of the best places few people have ever seen. Unfortunately, their work keeps them busy and nomadic, and limits their communication with Chloe. Despite this unusual arrangement, you've actually met Chloe's parents twice and you think they are possibly the two coolest people on Earth.

Chloe just shrugs. "I haven't really thought it through yet. Maybe everything will be clearer after we toss our caps later."

"Just promise me you'll keep in touch," you blurt out. "No matter happens or what you decide. Tell me where you plan to settle down, or whatever. Just…" You take a deep breath, knowing where this is headed. "Chloe, you've been such a huge part of my life and—"

"Bree! Don't start that now!" Chloe swats your hip and gets off the bed. Her eyes are shining despite her chastising smile. "We have the whole day to get emotional about graduating—let's try to keep it in until tonight, okay?"

_Right, there's that rose party tonight—oh, shit._

"Um, look, you were there for me the whole four years—"

She grabs a pillow and tosses it at your head, laughing. "What did I _just_ say?"

"No, I just wanted to get your blessing! To…" You look over at the yellow rose on your desk and back to her sheepishly. "To give the rose to Beca."

She looks at you curiously. "Well, yeah, of course. Why would you need my blessing?"

"Because if we're being technical, the 'person who affected my life _the most_ while at Barden'—" you quote the age-old tradition of Barden University's rose-giving party "—was you, not Beca."

Chloe puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head amusedly. "Trust a Posen to turn something symbolic into something _technical_. If everyone followed that rule, the cafeteria would be drowning in roses because, seriously, those pizza rolls _changed our lives_. I will never eat pizza the normal way ever again."

You chuckle in agreement and wait for her actual response.

"Give it to Beca," she smiles. "She'll love it."

You leap off your bed and hug her tightly. "You're the absolute best!"

"One condition," she says after the hug. "I don't have to give mine to you, either. Even though you obviously deserve it, too," she adds with an eye roll.

"Deal. Now, come on, we'll really be late if we don't start getting ready now."

You turn around to start making your bed and think about how Beca would react to receiving the rose. She knows about the party but you're pretty sure she doesn't know about the rose giving. You can already predict the raised eyebrow, the smirk—

_The raised eyebrow. The smirk._

A memory suddenly flashes across your mind of Beca wearing that exact look months ago during rehearsals, conceding defeat after suggesting a change in the set list for the nth time. You had stopped her with a glare and she responded by raising her eyebrows, pursing her lips, and walking away. But you saw her flash a smirk in the other girls' direction.

_Sure, it's charming _now,_ but that look irritated me to no end back then._

You think back to those days and vaguely remember how every practice that Beca interrupted usually ended with you and Chloe walking home arguing. Back then, you couldn't understand why Chloe always stuck up for Beca. Now, of course, it makes sense—

_Beca has an amazing talent that deserves to be heard_.

—but you remember how much it hurt to have your best friend disagree with you on something that meant so much to the both of you, and to go so far as to invite Beca over to your apartment. Chloe knew how much you needed to win the ICCAs—to make up for the catastrophe you inflicted upon the Bellas a year ago—so it upset you that she seemed to be falling for Beca's "madlib beats."

_To be fair, you eventually did, too._

But maybe that was it. Maybe that was the consequence of you hurting her in the past: Years later, when you would need her the most, she wouldn't be on your side.

You turn around just in time to see Chloe bounding across your open door toward the kitchen. You can hear her morning playlist blasting through her open bedroom door.

You shake your head and correct yourself: Chloe siding with Beca was only proof that Beca was in the right; and when someone as decent as Chloe is against you, you are most likely in the wrong.

And you _were_ wrong about everything.

Chloe passes your door once again, this time with a toothbrush in her mouth. She sees you standing frozen beside your bed and does a double take.

"Seriously?" she says, inadvertently spitting flecks of toothpaste onto your floor. "Are we having a Freaky Friday moment or something? Do I have to drag _you_ into the showers to get ready, Miss Posen?"

* * *

**BECA**

"… the challenges we face in the future…"

You try to stifle your sixth yawn of the day but it comes out anyway.

_This is the most boring graduation speech ever._

You look to the elderly couple on your left and contrast them with the slightly younger couple on your right. They have a kid of maybe eight or ten years old with them, whose face is glued to an iPad.

"… you are the younger generation, the _future_ of our nation…"

_This kid playing Angry Birds is the future of our nation?_

You turn to face the graduates and try to spot if anyone was actually listening. You count more than five nodding their heads—not in agreement with whatever the speaker was saying, but nodding their heads to sleep.

"… the future is…"

_This guy would make a good drinking game; chug whenever he says the word 'future.'_

But then again, you can't blame him. These graduates are all probably thinking about their future…

_Your_ future, on the other hand, doesn't need to be thought of that much anymore. You received your grades last week and passed by a comfortable margin (thanks to some last-minute effort led by your girlfriend), which pleased your dad but not as much as hearing that you were planning to stay on at Barden next year did.

_Surprise, surprise._

Yes, you had shocked the world—_well, the Bellas, your dad, and Jesse—_when you decided to hold off moving to LA for another three years. It was a decision you didn't see coming two months ago, but you're pretty confident now that it's the right one.

_Just like how I was confident about Aubrey being the right one._

It was partly because of her, actually. Even though she didn't persuade you to, or even suggest that you stay, Aubrey showed you why the Bellas were important.

You find her in the crowd—you can't see her clearly, but you know it's her—and everything about her proud stature is a product of her time with the Bellas. Aubrey was loyal, passionate, and hard working—_not to mention physically perfect—_and you saw those qualities up close even more when she tutored you into that C minus in Philosophy and during 'Bellas transitioning.'

And the bond between her and Chloe—and how they still kept in touch with some former Bellas—proved to you that, for all the crazy talk during aca initiation was worth, this really _was_ a sisterhood. The Bellas are a family, and they will support you for the rest of your life; LA provided none of that comfort and security. You wish you were strong enough to face that alone but you're really not.

_And okay… maybe the little nerds aren't so bad._

You smile. It sounds cheesy, thinking about how much you actually want to stay at Barden now, and you're glad you didn't push through with the whole 'LA-being-three-thousand-miles-away-from-Cambridge-but-Atlanta-only-a-third-of-that' line that you kept in your back pocket to score some good points with Aubrey.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by applause and cheering. Mortarboards and fake diplomas are thrown into the air, and confetti cannons—out of nowhere—shower the ceiling with colorful pieces of paper. You see families rushing over to congratulate their sons and daughters so you decide to head over to—

"Chloe!"

You yell her name again as you manoeuver through the crowd toward the redhead. She turns around after being released from a hug and smiles widely when she sees you scrambling over chairs to get to her.

"Beca!"

"Congratulations!" You give her as big of a hug as your tiny body can manage.

"Thanks! Where's Aubrey?" she asks, looking behind you expecting to see her best friend in tow.

"Probably with her parents," you shrug. "She's all the way on the other side of the auditorium; I kind of want to wait for her to come to me instead. I could literally die from being trampled by all these people."

Chloe laughs. You catch sight of someone heading your way and grimace once you see who it is.

"Ah, it's my boss—or should I say, _former_ boss," you add once he's within hearing distance.

"If you're all the way here congratulating _me_," Luke says with a frown, "who's managing the booth, Becky?"

_Looks like I'm still Becky at the end of the year._

"I gave it to Jesse."

It took a lot of guts to ask a favor from the guy whose heart you wrecked, but your relationship with Jesse has thankfully gotten better over the last two months. It isn't at the level of him trying to make you laugh with old vinyl record covers again but it _is_ at a level where you can musically collaborate on an a cappella arrangement…

"And congratulations," you add. "It's been a great year working for you."

Luke shakes your hand with a grin and, to your surprise, turns to Chloe. "Congratulations, ginger biscuit. These are for you."

He smiles and hands her a bouquet of flowers from behind his back that you are only noticing now.

You raise an eyebrow at your boss. You didn't know they knew each other, much less that they were _friendly_ with each other_._

"They're from my parents," he clarifies. "They're excessively polite and live near a flower shop, so…"

Chloe's smile widens as she admires the arrangement.

_Seriously, are they dating? Childhood friends? Cousins?_

"I can't believe you two know each other," you say, looking between them for an explanation.

"Who do you think pestered me to listen to your mixes?" smirks Luke.

Both Chloe's and your mouths drop.

"I did _not_ pester you!" argues Chloe. "I just reminded you that Beca was giving you her mixes! And besides, Jesse did, too."

You turn to Luke. "Wait, so if they hadn't said anything…?"

You don't exactly know what you're feeling—maybe angry and embarrassed that it was really Chloe and Jesse that got you the opportunity to DJ at the station. Or maybe guilty over the fact that they had done it because they cared about you and you repaid them both by, well… we all know how that went.

"I would have," Luke quickly insists. Whether he's sparing your feelings or not, you can't tell, but you do know that Luke never lies. "It just would have taken longer to get to your mixes. I get a lot of samplers from other aspiring student DJs, and if Chloe hadn't reminded me to get through my daily quota, I would have gotten to yours months later. But I still would have given you your shot; your music is really great, Becky."

You feel relieved but flash Chloe a grateful smile anyway.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to congratulate my mates from Linguistics."

"You have other friends?" Chloe gasps mockingly.

You laugh as Luke just rolls his eyes and waves good-bye.

"So… how well _do_ you know my boss?" you ask, because you're still dying to know if they're dating.

Not for any particular reason other than to satisfy your curiosity, of course.

"Oh, we're in the same department," she says. "We've been in at least one class together since freshman year. He's kind of my best bro."

"What?" This is like finding out the color you thought was purple was actually violet. "How did I not know about this? I see both of you every week!"

Chloe smiles mischievously. "It was a secret friendship! And, come on, how often does Luke talk about his personal life anyway?"

You shrug in agreement. "What about Aubrey? Does she know someone's competing with her for the best friend title?"

"She found out around two months ago," she laughs. "Aubrey's like my sister but there are some things you do with your bro that you don't do with your sister, and vice-versa, you know?"

You nod slowly before you question the innuendo. "Wait, _what_ things?"

She laughs and shoves your shoulder. You can't help but smile and be thankful that the gesture is just as playful as it was before the ICCAs. "Now in _that_ way! I meant like the crazy stuff that Aubrey would kill me if she knew about. And… certain relationship stuff, you know?"

She gives you a small smile and then it hits you.

_Luke helped her get over me. And probably Aubrey, too._

"I'm sorry." It came out so softly that you're afraid she didn't hear you through the noise.

But she did, and she frowns at you. "For what?"

"For that night… I guess I never apologized."

She shakes her head lightly. "Beca, you don't have to apologize. We're good!"

_But are we?_

Since you kept your promise not to tell Aubrey about what happened, the past two months have been a series of awkward hallway encounters with Chloe and pretending that everything was okay until… things actually _seemed_ okay.

_Fake it 'til you make it._

You were worried that Chloe would distance herself from you and Aubrey, but she never let it show that it bothered her. In fact, during the times you _had_ to be near each other, she treated you the same as always. Eventually, you started to believe she was okay, though at the back of your mind, you keep thinking—

_It's because she's had practice hiding it._

"But I'm more sorry that of all people, it had to be Aubrey."

She didn't say anything; she just nodded.

Before you could stop yourself—

"Aubrey told me about…"

You can't finish that statement; you just shake your head awkwardly. You're not even sure why you're bringing it up anyway.

You just want Chloe to know how sorry you are, and that you can't imagine the pain she had to go through—that she had to go through alone because you made it impossible for her to talk to Aubrey about it.

_But we were there for her. It's not like we shut her out. _

You weren't there for her emotionally. You thought Chloe asked you not to tell Aubrey to protect your relationship with her because it made sense; Aubrey would never want to hurt Chloe, so she might have broken up with you if she knew. But Chloe also had feelings for Aubrey years ago, and Aubrey swore that _Chloe_ swore they were gone but…

What do you actually know about Chloe? If you were blindsided by her confession, what else did you fail to notice? Could you have known that you were stripping Chloe of all her chances at being happy? She didn't deserve that.

But now here she is in front of you, giving you a forgiving smile and brushing away your selfishness.

"It's okay," she says in that light, gentle voice she has. "I've had a lot of time to think about it. I'm happy with the way things turned out, Beca. I look at the two of you now and I see how so much has changed since you started dating." She holds you by your shoulders. "You're more open and trusting with your feelings—I mean, that speech you gave when you told us you were staying at Barden? Beautiful. You're even more affectionate and," she looks at you closely, "you actually _do_ wear much less eyeliner now."

You bow your head sheepishly and laugh.

"And Aubrey," she continues with a growing smile, "Aubrey is much happier. I know it's not just the fact that classes are over; she's genuinely more relaxed when she's around you, even when you still manage to piss her off during Bellas transitioning," she adds with a chuckle. "And that's all I ever wanted to be for you and Aubrey. Someone you could trust; someone who could show you that loving someone—or some _thing_, or some _group_ of misfit a cappella nerds—isn't so bad. Someone who could make Aubrey stop depending on the pressures of the world to feel happy about herself."

When you started dating Aubrey, you envisioned your relationship as each of you being with someone who challenged the other to be better. It was what you had to believe was true to justify what you did to Jesse and Chloe. And hearing that Chloe thinks so, too, makes you feel less of a dick.

"So it's sort of like, your lives took a different path from what I wanted, but ended up in the same place anyway," she ends with a happy shrug.

You look into those blue eyes for sincerity and you find it.

_What about you? Did you end up where you wanted to be?_

You end up not asking that question because you feel like you've caused her enough trouble just starting this conversation, so instead you tell her, "You've helped us get here, too, you know. If you hadn't believed in me and asked me to join the Bellas… if you hadn't given your crazy freshman roommate a chance, none of us would be here today. You're every bit as responsible for where we are now as Aubrey and I are."

Chloe gives you a genuine smile and wraps her arms around you gratefully. "Thank you."

You squeeze her tightly, not wanting to let go for a while.

You start to miss how you used to hang out and play her the mixes you thought Aubrey would never allow the Bellas to perform. You also realize that despite all those times, there were a lot of things you didn't know about her and only found out about recently; like her friendship with Luke, her history with Aubrey, and—_the bitter cherry on top_—her feelings for you.

Most of the time you spent together back then was about you—listening to _your_ mixes and _your_ complaints about Aubrey—and the past two months were all about learning the ropes of captaining the Barden Bellas, preparing for final exams, or just generally not seeing each other. One thing or another always got in the way of _fully_ returning to how close you and Chloe once were.

You can't fix how selfish you were the past year, but maybe you can still do something about it now. You want Chloe to continue being a part of your life, and not fixing your relationship now jeopardizes that. Before you could ask if Chloe's comment weeks ago about leaving for a trip around the world was serious, however, a voice in the crowd causes you to pull apart from each other.

"Beca! Chloe!"

"Aubrey!" Chloe squeals and runs (as much of a run as the crowd permitted) to her best friend.

They exchange congratulations, hugs, and a few tears over the last four years, after which you congratulate your girlfriend with a kiss.

"So, Chlo, did all that droning about the future help you decide yours?" Aubrey asks with her arm around your waist.

"If anything, he made it worse," Chloe says with a laugh. "But right now I kind of just want to celebrate the fact that we're done with school forev—oh, wait."

She looks at you and Aubrey apologetically, and the three of you laugh.

In the middle of taking their pictures and hearing them talk about their plans, it hits you that the three of you are going to be parting ways soon. It brings up similar emotions to those when your dad left but you know that this time is different. For one thing, this isn't coming as a surprise; and for another, you're sure that even though Aubrey and Chloe are leaving, they're not leaving you broken, hurt, and confused. On the contrary, they're leaving you a much better person than you were when they first found you.

Have you done the same for both of them?

* * *

**CHLOE**

You smooth over the wrinkles of the white dress you decided to wear to the graduation party. You remember spending a whole afternoon last week shopping with Aubrey to find the perfect outfit. It was an afternoon well spent, you think, as there's nothing quite like feeling great on in the inside because you look great on the outside.

You admire the party organizers' choice of location; it's a beautiful night to be under the starry sky in the field by the lake. The evening was going really well, too—unlimited booze, great music, and tons of nostalgia-inducing videos and unexpected performances.

You were surprised when the emcee announced a special seniors' send-off by the Barden Bellas, but it was no surprise that you and Aubrey were practically bawling as early in their performance as Beca blowing on the pitch pipe.

The girls sang a beautiful rendition of "Hide and Seek," which was extra emotional because it happens to be the audition song when you and Aubrey joined, before getting playfully interrupted by the crowd-pleasing Treblemakers, bringing up the beat with a seamless transition to Jason Derulo's "Whatcha Say." It was extremely fun seeing the two groups led by Beca and Jesse have their musical back and forth on stage—especially knowing their previous drama backstage—and it made you quite glad to see the Bellas entering a new era.

But that was earlier in the evening and right now the atmosphere is of a quieter emotional excitement. The highlight of this whole evening is approaching: the symbolic giving of yellow roses.

You've heard about this night from the older Bellas. The point was to give a single yellow rose to someone who encapsulated your entire Barden experience, usually a best friend—you read that yellow roses were a symbol of friendship, as well as one of Barden's school colors. But throughout the years it had become sort of a last-ditch effort to get someone to notice you, and the organizers just went with it.

You roll the stem of your rose between your fingers absentmindedly. The lights begin to dim and the outdoor screen now shows a ten-second countdown to midnight. The organizers start hyping everyone up with music and a verbal countdown. You don't remember when you became so cynical, but for some reason you feel the sudden urge to go home.

"Eight … seven…"

It might have to do with the not-so-romantic year you've had.

"Six… five…"

Or the pointlessness of it all.

"Four… three… two…!"

But your heart can't help but race with artificial excitement anyway—

"ONE!"

The entire sky lights up with fireworks and confetti. You get goosebumps as the music matches up perfectly with the moment—making you appreciate the last four years while simultaneously looking forward to the future. You feel a smile creeping on your lips and you just let it happen because you have to admit—

_This is pretty fucking majestic._

You don't know how long you've been admiring the sky, but you feel a soft tap on your shoulder and look back down to Earth. Fat Amy is holding out a lighted sparkler. She smiles at you as you take it and all the Bellas gather for a picture with sparklers and fireworks and raining confetti.

After getting enough pictures to fill a dozen scrapbooks, the music slows down to a ballad and the rest of the Bellas, except Beca, start making their feeble excuses to leave.

It's the start of the rose giving.

You turn your head just in time to see Beca smirk as she takes the rose from Aubrey. You bite your lip to contain your smile, as you can clearly see the joy behind Beca's eyes. The tiny DJ reaches up and kisses Aubrey chastely before putting the rose between her teeth and holding her hand out for a dance. You can totally see behind Aubrey's eye roll; she's swooning inside.

You watch as they take each other in their arms and sway to the music.

You never let yourself think too much about it these past two months. Not because you're still bitter and hurting—_at least, I don't think I am_—but because there's no point.

You know in your heart that you love them both so much—and that's it. Period. That's all it needs to be.

You love them not because you seek intimacy or emotional gratification; you just love them. You love them for who they are in themselves; you love them for who they are in your life.

These days you're more confident in your ability to do this, especially after witnessing how easy it is to act as though nothing happened. With Beca suddenly announcing she was staying in school, you couldn't exactly ignore her during 'Bellas transitioning;' you had a responsibility to teach her the rules of a cappella.

It also helped that things hadn't drastically changed between your co-captain and the future captain. Aubrey was more open to the musical changes, sure, but Beca still deliberately ignored the other Bella traditions, threatening to get rid of them just to piss Aubrey off and to make you laugh again.

_Not to mention she was still completely clueless about the need for choreography._

You kept your hands off her this time.

Your feelings of jealousy at every covert kiss or every sweet thing one did for the other took a while to die down, but they died nonetheless. Feeling _happy_ about it might be asking too much, but at least you don't feel like running to Luke's rooftop garden and yelling your lungs out every time Beca came over your apartment.

You're also glad you took Luke's advice and stayed away from bars and clubs—

_Jeez, who knows what kinds of mistakes I would have made._

-pretty much anywhere you could be find by potential dates. Instead you turned to your first love: photography. You've been working with cameras, both real and toy ones, ever since your tiny baby hands could grip objects so it was nice to be alone with one in the city, away from Barden and your apartment. It made it easy not to think about it too much.

You fumble the rose you'd been twirling and almost drop it. Immediately, as though sensing your return to Earth, someone approaches you. He looks familiar and it only takes a second for you to recognize him as your freshman English Literature classmate.

You blink at him curiously for a moment before realizing that he's offering you his rose.

You smile politely as he begins to passionately explain that you were his inspiration for pursuing a degree in Theater Arts after seeing you play Beatrice in your class's rendition of _Much Ado About Nothing_. You didn't think it was _that_ inspiring, but you're not going to object when he's being so nice. "Thanks, that's really sweet of you! How are—?"

Your thoughts of striking up a conversation with him are cut short because a slight tilt of your head reveals three more guys waiting in line behind him.

You would have the decency to blush if it wasn't such an amusing sight to see. The one up next—_I think he's a member of Sigma Beta Theta_—seems to be rehearsing a speech, judging by his blank look and rapidly moving lips. The one behind him—_who sat behind me in Western History—_is taking more than what you think is a healthy number of pumps of breath spray.

_Well, at least he's ambitious._

The last one looks just about ready to vomit. You've never met him but he fondly reminds you of Aubrey.

One by one, you humbly receive their roses and listen to their prepared statements about how you made a difference in their Barden experience.

_In more ways than my looks, thankfully._

It surprises you that they remember the little things you once did—lending them notes or being stuck in an elevator with them—enough to make a lasting impression on their entire college life. Of course, you aren't naïve enough to think that's all they're here for, so you give them each a kiss on the cheek but turn down their offers to dance—

_Wouldn't want to hold up the line._

-and you give the last guy an extra hug for bravery after he got through his speech.

After they walk away and wish you a great life, you look down at your hand and smile gratefully at the four roses. It's a nice feeling to know that you have had an impact on people's lives, but that nice feeling is somewhat dampened by your own rose that you're holding in the other hand.

_Who am I supposed to give this to?_

You've already decided this morning against giving it to Aubrey because it might make Beca worry. So maybe—

"Wow, four roses," a familiar British voice says from behind you. "I suppose a fifth wouldn't be quite as special anymore."

You see this as a perfect moment to counter his dramatic entrance so you say, with your back to Luke, "It's not the rose that makes it special, it's the person giving it." You turn around slowly wearing a mischievous grin. "Luke."

He smirks down at you satisfactorily. "Well, in that case…" He swings his arm around from behind him and offers you his rose.

You snatch it from between his fingers and make a show of clutching it to your chest before laughing and pulling him into a hug. "I thought you weren't coming!"

He shrugs indifferently. "The organizers stuck a yellow rose to the station's door. I didn't want anyone to think it was mine so I thought I might as well attend the festivities and leave it here."

You narrow your eyes at him, not entirely convinced. "Or _maybe_ you really _don't_ think the celebration is, and I quote, 'just for people whose college years will be the best they'll ever get and will never amount to anything.'"

"I appreciate the attempt at a British accent, but I did _not_ say that at all."

"Fine, it may not have been verbatim, but still…"

The next song comes up. It's Edwin McCain's "I'll Be" and it makes you scoff in amusement. "I can't believe they chose this song. It's so cliché."

Luke frowns at you and argues, "But that's perfect. It's our generation's cheesiest slow dance song, how could that not be perfect for this giant nostalgia fest?"

"Huh." You pause. "I guess you're right."

"You'd make a terrible radio DJ."

"Shut up." You shove his arm. "So what are you waiting for, DJ Union Jack? Ask me to dance with you already!"

Luke scrunches his face in disgust. "Never call me that again."

He takes the roses from your hands and places them carefully on a nearby cocktail table. You let him take the lead as he brings your right hand in his left and wraps the other around your waist. You rest your free hand on his upper arm and your head on his chest.

The great thing about having a platonic guy friend who understands your disregard for personal space is that slow dancing with him is a hundred percent comfortable.

You sway to the music, enjoying the comfort of being wrapped in his arms without a care in the world, but when the second verse comes Luke shifts slightly and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

You've shared plenty of kisses with him before, but in your experience you know there are different types of them. Something in the way he moved before kissing you tells you that this isn't out of affection.

_It feels… possessive?_

You find out that it is a strategically placed kiss because your hair muffles his voice and hides his lips when he says, "Beca's watching."

You frown and you suppose he senses it because he sways you both to a more secluded spot on the field. You thought Luke knew better than this. You don't want to play mind games with Beca, and you tell him so.

"I know you don't, and I'm sorry," he apologizes quickly. "I didn't mean it to be romantic or anything, but _she_ needs to know you'll be okay. You're going your separate ways soon and I know you don't want to leave her feeling guilty about how things are between you two right now. Letting her know you've got someone to care for you will break things off cleanly."

You open your mouth to argue but close it when you find you have nothing to say because he has a point. Things with Beca aren't going to end as naturally or as painlessly as your relationship with Aubrey eventually will; you don't have three years to make it all better before leaving. And you said it yourself:

_Make sure she's happy. Make sure she has no regrets._

"You're really something, Luke," you say with a shake of your head. "Thanks for looking out for us."

"What are friends for, right?"

"_Best _friends," you correct.

He leans back again with a challenging smirk on his face. "Okay then, _best friend._ I actually have another reason for coming tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Leave for England with me tomorrow."

* * *

**Response to reviews:**

**RJRMovieFan **(Mar. 19) - Study Questions. First: _I__s_ Beca in love with Chloe? Second: What possible reasons could there be for (a) Aubrey not knowing and (b) Chloe herself _not making it known_ that she was in love with Beca? Discuss with your partner until the end of class haha. (See analysis below) to get the answers. I do agree, though, that they took Chloe for granted. :(

**Guest** (Mar. 19) - IMHO, yes and no. Chloe does deserve a shit-ton better, but I wouldn't call Beca and Aubrey idiots. Selfish, maybe. :)

**PitchesBWare **(Mar. 19) - Your message is as intimidating as your screen name, I must say. Firstly, the reason I wrote this story despite my Mitchsen blindness was to reconcile myself with the very idea of Mitchsen by focusing the story on Chloe. (So that's why Chloe seems to fit the main character position the most.) I apologize for my lack of talent in writing "Mitchsen fiction" (try saying _that_ 10x over), but the intention was that they _had_ chemistry beyond physical – (See analysis below on _Love_.) You'll be glad to see that I did reconsider, and I added one last Chloe POV with the others. (See analysis below for _Beca's Feelings for Chloe_ and _Chloe Has__ the Worst Friends Ever_) for your other concerns. Lastly, Chloe telling them to f– off is, while totally within her right, also totally out of character–at least, the way I wrote her to be and again, (See analysis below on _Chloe Telling Them to F– Off_) for more on that haha.

**Guest **(Mar. 19) - Yeah... that's the worst 'cause there's nothing _you_ can do to make them change their mind.

**Alice** (Mar. 20) - Thank you! I was under the impression that nobody liked the way I wrote this haha. Stay tuned for the Epilogue. :)

* * *

What time is it? **ANALYSIS TIME!** (Warning: long read, which you can skip)

So the good thing about not having that much reviews was that I could just go along unraveling the story I planned to tell without having to explain myself. But after the the recent string of comments, which–don't get me wrong–I _do_ love reading, I realized that I left a lot of things in _subtext_. It's hard for me to judge because I know these characters inside-out, but I failed to factor in that _you_, the reader, might not pick up on it. So here is my way of answering some of your burning questions.

_Beca's Feelings for Chloe_

In 'Beca: Please Don't Say You Love Me' we find out for the first time that Beca _was attracted _to Chloe, but only _implied_ that she might have had feelings for her. Notice how Beca was careful not to proceed down that line of thinking? She never let it get to that point because she simply thought it was hopeless ("way out of my league" ... "what an angel she was") and this hopelessness comes out of a feeling of not being good enough / not deserving.

The 'I don't deserve you' shtick is not a new motif in Bechloe literature, but when I put it in the context of Mitchsen, i.e., made it the reason Beca turns Chloe away, there are two critical things to understand:

(1) Beca cannot be in a relationship with someone who she sees as **perfection**. When she thinks, "_You would ruin me, Chloe Beale_" she means it. Her insecurity would only worsen with the burden of satisfying someone who deserves only the best. It's a complicated mixture of jealousy, insecurity, and even contempt–because eventually she'll blame the relationship for making her feel bad about herself. Put yourself in Beca's shoes and imagine you get a chance to date, I don't know, your hero or favorite celebrity. They could have anyone. Why would they want you? That's how Beca feels.*

* Similarly, that's why Beca didn't choose Jesse: "I don't think that's a good basis for our relationship – Jesse trying to fix me, the fuck up."

(2) That said, Beca _doesn't_ see Aubrey as perfection. And to see why this matters, see the next section.

_Love_

Obviously this story is about love, but most specifically, love as defined by M. Scott Peck, which I find is the greatest definition: "_Love is the will to extend one's self for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual **growth**._"

Love has nothing to do with romance or sex; it's simply giving yourself to help the other grow. And this was obvious ever since 'Aubrey: Part of Your World' when they decided to get together – Aubrey wanted to learn from, and teach something to, Beca. It was the reason she gave Jesse in 'Aubrey: Juice Box Wine' ("We will grow together in our relationship") to prove that she was better for Beca. And in _this_ chapter, Chloe points it out as well: Beca and Aubrey have changed for the better. They may have started out with sex but they both come to realize that it could be more than that.

But that still raises the question, why not Jesse? Why not Chloe? Wouldn't there be growth in either relationship, too? For Jesse, it was clear in 'Jesse: (Forget About Me)' that he drew the short straw; Beca didn't give him a chance to show what he could do for her. But it was still doomed from the start because Jesse already placed himself in a holier-than-thou position in the movie. As for Chloe, again, she's perfect. Chloe saw herself nurturing Beca's growth but Beca could see nothing to change in Chloe; nothing to contribute.

_Chloe Has the Worst Friends Ever_

So there are a lot of ill-feelings toward Aubrey and Beca and I completely understand. Why _didn't_ Aubrey notice that her best friend was falling for Beca Mitchell? Why _did_ Beca sleep with Aubrey immediately after Chloe admitted she had feelings for her?

Okay, I have no defense for the second one. Maybe it was the wrong plot device to move the story along but, hey, it got you to feel something! But in all honesty, it was supposed to dramatically "seal the deal" on Mitchsen – the crudest possible way of saying, "Okay, is there hope for Chloe from Beca's POV? NOPE!" I guess it was too much though and I apologize.

As for the first question, the superficial reasons are that:

(a) Beca was just _that_ dense – I mean, come on, the whole reason Bechloe exists is because of their onscreen chemistry. We were told to believe in Jeca; so was Beca. (Hey, that rhymed.)

(b) Aubrey was distracted. The Pukegate incident still bothered her (hinted in 'Aubrey: Juice Box Wine' and in this chapter) and she was so obsessed with restoring the Bellas' reputation that she lashed out at everyone – basically her character arc in PP. While it was no excuse not to _See the Signs_, we should still ask... _were_ there even signs? Which leads us to–

_Chloe Telling Them to F– Off (__a.k.a. "I Saw [No] Signs")_

No. Just no. Chloe wouldn't do that. She wouldn't tell them to fuck off because she loves them.

And that is why I wrote this story with her at the center. Chloe's character development in Pitch Perfect (excluding the sequel) proved what an angel she really is. From being mildly submissive to learning to stick up for herself, what remained constant? Her love and loyalty.

Even when Beca said, "You don't have to pretend you're allowed to have a say in the group, right?" – a much harsher and sarcastic, "You don't actually think you have a say in the group, do you?" in the script – Chloe still thought Beca was worth defending. I think that's why I wrote Chloe to be the recipient of all the pain; because she'll take it and, in the end, still love her friends.

I wrote Chloe as some sort of epitome of selflessness; **that was on purpose**. She's not the type of person to tell them to fuck off; she's the type of person who forgives. She doesn't want anyone to feel bad for her so she never lets them see her hurting. She did it first with Aubrey and, as a result, _we don't actually know_ how much it hurt. It's three years too late for us to see, but what if that pain was enough to make her _never_ want to wear her heart on her sleeve? We already know Chloe only deals with 'fuck buddies' so we can assume that she hasn't had, or even desired, a meaningful relationship since.

(Also, it may answer why Aubrey didn't notice or care about Chloe's breakup with Tom; he literally means nothing to Chloe.)

Let's get things straight though: Beca is _not_ a repeat of Aubrey. Chloe's feelings for Beca are stronger, otherwise this whole story wouldn't exist. It was the trigger that caused her to ask for "a little fucking appreciation." Fat Amy probably noticed what the others didn't because of her ESP. I'm kidding. Because the signs really were obvious, but not obvious enough for people who weren't looking at the right time, or at the right things, to notice.

Now, if you're thinking, "Shit, no one's _that_ nice," well, you have the Epilogue to look forward to. (An analysis of this chapter might appear on the Epilogue, too.)

* * *

**A/N: **So what do you think? I gave you a look into their heads one last time; did I save Aubrey and Beca from your hatred? For the record, it was never my intention to make them appear like terrible friends. But you got your wish! Chloe seems to be set on leaving.

Thank you all so much for reading! I'm kind of glad it's (almost) the end. Shoutout to that guest who said, "keep it mitchsen" haha. Are you kicking yourself yet?


	10. The Final Chapter

**A/N: **Holy CRAP. I promised an Epilogue but I started to enjoy the world I built around the 'original' Epilogue so much that I filled it out, twisted it, and came up with this 18,000-word mess instead. I want you to go in with zero expectations so I won't say more in this note other than a warning / guide: I played around with asynchronous editing for a more intricate storytelling, so I placed location and time headings for scenes. If one doesn't have, it means it's the same as the previous one. Also, the switch to 3rd-person POV was intentional.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

_**Somewhere in the Mediterranean – December 2013**_

_VRRRT. VRRRT._

Chloe instinctively thrust her arm off to the side and blindly felt around for whatever was making the irritating sound that woke her up from her deep, relaxing sleep. The gentle warmth on her skin told her that the sun was up and shining, but the cool breeze and soft sheets were enough to keep her comfortably buried into the pillows.

_VRRRT. VRRRT._

Chloe rolled to her side with a soft sigh and reluctantly opened her eyes to the morning light. The thin white curtains were swaying over the open doors that led to the balcony, beyond which Chloe could just make out the gorgeous blue sea. She swore there was no other shade of blue as vibrant and as mesmerizing—

_VRR—_

Annoyed, Chloe finally located her phone on the bedside table to answer the call, only to miss it by a fraction of a second. Instead, she saw a text: "_We're leaving in ten. Meet you downstairs._"

Chloe sat up in alarm (the text was sent six minutes ago) and immediately regretted doing so, as the woman to her left stirred as a result of her abrupt movement. Thankfully, that was all the sleeping beauty did, and Chloe managed to slip out of bed quietly.

She gathered her discarded clothing and stuffed them in her bag, simultaneously pulling out a fresh top and a pair of shorts in which to walk out of the room decently.

Unable to resist, Chloe grabbed her digital camera and took a photo of the room's amazing view of the Aegean Sea, making sure to include the nude olive-skinned woman still sound asleep beneath the white sheets in the foreground. Biting her lip in a smile, Chloe reached into the side pocket of her rucksack and shuffled through a number of Polaroid films. With her trusty Sharpie she scribbled a thank you on the corner of a photo showing the two of them by a bonfire at the beach the previous night, and left it on the table before leaving the room.

Some might call it cliché; Chloe calls it a habit.

* * *

Luke had been waiting in the hotel lobby for ten minutes when Chloe finally reached the bottom of the elegant stone staircase. "Had a good night?" he asked cheekily.

Chloe grinned slyly. "Let's just say the common _tongue_ is more literal than you think."

"You already told that joke in Pamplona."

"Oh, did I? Sorry." Chloe hummed thoughtfully as they crossed the street. "I'll think of something better on the ferry. Where are we off to next anyway?"

"The Turkish seaport city of Canakkale," Luke read off the itinerary. "We won't be there long, though. We're off to Tanzania to meet your parents for their anniversary on Wednesday."

Chloe nodded excitedly and stretched her arms and shoulders, still sore despite waking up surrounded by goose down pillows. "God, I could really use a nice, hot bath right now."

"Gross. Keep it to yourself."

Chloe punched Luke on the shoulder playfully. "Well, what were _you_ up to last night, Grumpy McSullen-faced? I hardly saw you at the bonfire."

"I was at the bar getting some writing done."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "You're getting all broody again," she observed with a sideways glance. "And I think I know why."

Luke raised an eyebrow at her. "If you say I'm on my man-period again I will throw you into the sea."

"_No_… Besides, you're not due for another two weeks—argh!" Chloe pulled her arms to her sides to protect her ribs from Luke's poking. "Seriously, though—I think there's _some-one on your mi-ind_!" she sang. "Someone you're _totes_ crushing on."

"Get off it…"

Chloe squealed and skipped ahead to face Luke while walking backward. "I knew it!" she said triumphantly. "She told me she likes you, too, you know."

"What? How?" Luke asked suspiciously.

"We've been Facebook messaging," Chloe replied nonchalantly.

Luke frowned. "But Adi's not—"

"Aha!" Chloe snapped her fingers. "So it's Adi!"

Ignoring Luke's death glare, Chloe reached into the side pocket of her bag once more and searched through the stack of Polaroid photos she had been randomly taking throughout their travels. "This is her, right?" she asked, holding up a group photo of them with some locals and tourists they had met during their two months in India.

Luke couldn't resist smiling at the girl in the picture so Chloe took it as a yes. "Good choice," she nodded appraisingly. "You _do_ remember that she goes to Cambridge, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm pretty smart," Luke said with a slight pout.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Not what I meant, _Insecure Ian_—"

"You've really got to come up with cleverer nicknames—"

"I meant she's just train ride away from _London_."

"Yeah, and?"

Chloe opened her mouth to respond sarcastically but not before she walked backward into a prickly bush. "_Ow, ow, ow!_"

Luke smirked satisfactorily at Chloe's comeuppance. "Now we're even," he said smugly, before helping her up.

* * *

_**Kilimanjaro International Airport – December 2013**_

"Mummy!"

"My baby!"

Chloe dropped her bag in the middle of the airport and sprinted toward her parents awaiting them just beyond the security fence. She leapt into a group hug and the Beale family squeezed each other tightly. It had been almost a year and a half since their last reunion in London to celebrate Chloe's birthday and graduation, which was rough even for someone one who saw her parents for a week once or twice a year.

Luke caught up, carrying Chloe's discarded rucksack, just as the Beales pulled apart.

"Luke, my boy!" Mr. Beale greeted him with a clap on the shoulder. "Look at you, you look practically scrawny! Has my darling daughter been working you like a mule?"

"Mules have it better," joked Luke.

"You _both _need a lot of filling up," said Mrs. Beale, scrutinizing them both at arm's length. "Come on, let's get some food in you while you tell us all about your adventures."

At the restaurant, Chloe and her father eagerly swapped pictures and memory cards over the dinner table until Mrs. Beale scolded them and took away their cameras, after which Chloe resorted to using words instead ("How primitive," grumbled Mr. Beale) to describe their year and a half of traveling.

"Half of the time we don't even know where you are!" Mrs. Beale scolded them lightly after Chloe recalled their adventures in Russia. "I'm pretty sure most countries on your itinerary accept credit cards, but I don't see any charges being made."

Chloe and Luke exchanged guilty looks. "Well, we try to travel on land as much as possible," Chloe said shiftily, "and we, um, skip hotels when we can help it…"

Her mother looked confused for a second until Mr. Beale's hearty laugh gave her a clue about what her daughter meant. Shaking her head, Mrs. Beale chastised them again, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "Well, I hope you're being _safe_. Although I have to say, Luke, I thought you were better than this."

The Englishman choked on his drink. "It was Chloe's idea!" he sputtered indignantly. "She called it '_banging for roof_' and often left me to fend for myself while she was at it!"

Mr. Beale laughed harder. "Banging for roof? How inelegant," he remarked. "Back in our day, it was called paratrooping. Much harder to decipher what you mean."

"Wait—you do it, too?" Chloe exclaimed, half in amusement and half in disgust.

"How do you think I met your mother?"

Chloe frowned. "No way! I thought you guys met working for National Geographic?"

Her parents shrugged in unison. "That was a more appropriate story to tell a curious five-year-old," admitted Mrs. Beale. "But yes, back then that was how freelancers got around, literally _and_ figuratively. Between your father and me, we had probably saved thousands of dollars in hotel costs by—to use your term—'banging for roof.' We competed over who saved the most; I guess that's one of the things I found so attractive about your dad."

Chloe smiled broadly at the revelation. That was one of the very few things she found delightful about growing up away from her parents; their love story was a mystery, never fully told. There was always something new to discover.

"So how did you guys _really_ meet?"

Mrs. Beale looked up thoughtfully. "Well, when I was still an impulsive student, I felt compelled to take some photos of the Irish coast for my dissertation so I traveled up there with just enough money for a plane ticket back and a few meals."

"Meanwhile, I was scouting locations for a client," said Mr. Beale. "I'd always been fond of my grandmother's stories of her childhood so I took a ferry across the Irish Sea while your mother was probably arriving at the airport."

"And as luck would have it, we ended up at the same bar, in the same town, on the same night, and, well," Mrs. Beale gave them all a knowing look, "I wasn't keen on spending my savings on at a motel. It was one night and I was single so I thought, eh, what's the harm?"

"But what was even luckier was that, in a pub full of Irish locals, she tried to hook up with _me_," chuckled Mr. Beale. "I guess it was my Scottish brogue that confused her."

Chloe's mother shook her head in embarrassment. "We spent the whole night skirting around saying 'Let's take this to your place' because neither of us actually _had_ a place to stay."

"Couldn't you tell she was American?" Luke asked Chloe's father amusedly.

"I thought she was one of those rich college girls on a semester abroad," shrugged Mr. Beale. "I didn't mind slumming it in a dorm if it meant I got a place to nap for a few hours. But we ended up talking until sunrise instead." He sighed fondly. "I was tired as hell and my expectations of sex were unmet but it was still one of the better nights of my life."

Mrs. Beale rolled her eyes. "About two years passed until we met each other again, as part of National Geographic's expedition to the Arctic Circle. And we thought, well, if fate is being so insistent we might as well give it a shot."

"So we dated for a couple of months, realized that we were pretty much perfect for each other, got married, and had you," Mr. Beale finished with a kiss to Chloe's temple.

"You're not telling me the more appropriate story by switching the order of those events, are you?" smirked Chloe.

Her mother smiled and shook her head, but her father couldn't resist adding, "That doesn't make you any less of an accident though—_ow_! I was just kidding!"

* * *

Later that night, the two women made a beeline for the hotel's spa while the men prepared everything for the next day's journey to the Serengeti.

"So now that you've completed the more _traditional_ tour around the world," Mr. Beale said with a slightly condescending emphasis on the word, "are you ready to take it to the next level? See things most people never see in their lifetime?"

* * *

Little did Luke and Mr. Beale know, Chloe and Mrs. Beale were having a very similar conversation in the spa at nearly the exact same moment, as Chloe had just finished recounting their experience on the Banana Pancake Trail.

"I assume that didn't give you much opportunity to interact with the locals and really immerse yourself in the culture," Mrs. Beale commented on the famously amateur route.

"We did meet more tourists than locals," agreed Chloe. "But like you and Daddy said, it's just to get my feet wet for the bigger journey, right?"

Mrs. Beale nodded and leaned against the edge of the hot tub wearing a thoughtful expression. "To be honest, as excited as I am for you to take the road less traveled, I can't help but wonder if my baby is far too young to be on it."

"_Mom_, I'm not that much younger than you were when you first started," pouted Chloe. "I'm not a baby anymore."

"Considering I've only seen you a cumulative total of sixteen out of your twenty-three years, you _are_ my baby."

"I'm twenty-two."

Mrs. Beale paused, verifying it in her head. "Oh, my god, you are!"

Rather than be upset, Chloe giggled and splashed her mother with water.

"Why did your father and I agree to letting you travel the world alone as a graduation present? Thank God for Luke, huh?" Mrs. Beale noticed a pensive expression cross her daughter's face and said jokingly, "What, tired of each other already?"

Chloe hesitated.

* * *

Upstairs, the other conversation continued—again in a similar direction.

"So Chloe tells me you've found the woman you want to shag for the rest of your life?"

Luke fumbled with the camera equipment he was arranging and looked over at Mr. Beale in shock. "Good lord, I hope that's not _exactly_ what she said," he stuttered. Although, knowing Chloe, it probably was.

"I may have embellished the wording myself," chuckled Mr. Beale. "It is true then?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "So I met a beautiful, brilliant, and charming girl in India who just happens to be studying Economics at Cambridge—that doesn't mean I want to _marry_ her."

* * *

"I see. And you think he has a shot with her?" asked Mrs. Beale.

Chloe nodded confidently. "They hit it off really well. I think they could make each other very happy."

Mrs. Beale observed her daughter; it wasn't difficult, since inheriting her father's expressive eyes practically made Chloe an open book. "You're thinking of asking him to go home, aren't you?"

"He's been pining for her ever since we circled back to Europe," Chloe said with an affectionate shake of her head. "I think he's got it bad… And he deserves to be happy; I don't want to be the reason he holds back."

Mrs. Beale pursed her lips thoughtfully. "But, sweetie, you understand I can't let you take the journey alone. It's not safe—"

"I know…" Chloe looked down guiltily. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Here, alone, without Daddy. I think it's time for me to put the passport on the shelf."

Chloe let her admission hang in the air, but she needn't have worried about disappointing her mother.

"Oh, honey." Mrs. Beale moved around the tub and wrapped an arm around Chloe. "You don't have to look so guilty! In fact, I'm relieved," she chuckled. "I was afraid you'd turn into a travel junkie like your father and me and we'd never see each other again unless our flights crossed paths in a layover. And don't worry about your father; I'll deal with him."

Chloe looked immensely relieved. "Thank you! I mean it's been sixteen months and ten days since Luke and I set off to see the world… and I really think I've found what I've been looking for."

Mrs. Beale smiled proudly. "Care to share some of that worldly wisdom with your old Mum?"

Chloe's eyes glinted with passion. "I think I'd rather show you instead."

* * *

**PART I**

**_New York City – June_**** 2014**

"Here you go."

A large Jamba Juice smoothie and a foil-wrapped vegan gyro being placed carefully on her desk finally made Chloe look up from her work for the first time that day.

Chloe's boss, the founder of the small start-up photography studio where she had decided to take her talents after returning to America, was leaning over her workstation and taking a playful peek at her monitor. "I noticed you hadn't had lunch so I picked something up on my way back from a client's," he said nonchalantly.

Along with the realization that she skipped lunch came the rumble of her stomach. "Wow, thanks, Troy! What do I owe ya?" she asked, unwrapping the foil.

Troy waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it."

When Chloe simply returned to work munching gratefully on the gyro, Troy shuffled awkwardly back to his own workstation across the large, open-space office. The only other two people in the studio exchanged smirks and shook their heads.

"Never gonna happen, dude," whispered the studio's resident videographer, PJ, as Troy passed his desk. "Chloe is hard to get—and she ain't even playin'."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Troy muttered evasively. He took a seat in his conveniently located workstation, where he could just about see Chloe beyond the corner of his monitor.

It had been almost half a year since Chloe came to New York and joined his photography studio, and from the moment her desk had been set up the redhead hit the ground running and began amassing an impressive clientele. At first, Troy was wary that most of them were nonprofits, which weren't exactly good for their infantile business, but Chloe's passion, combined with her stunning portfolio and inherited reputation in the industry, made it work out for the best. Their little four-person venture had moved on quickly from weddings and family portraits to serious photojournalism—the likes of AP and Reuters—thanks to Chloe's influence.

But Troy still had to admit: it was a bummer that she showed no interest in slowing down from work to try dating anyone, which only reinforced his theory that there already _was_ someone.

"_Besides, she probably has a boyfriend already,_" he typed into the private group chat he shared with two out of his three coworkers. "_LDR maybe?"_

A few seconds later—

"_You're both wrong,_" replied Michelle, their graphic design expert. Her desk was much closer to Chloe's than the guys' were, so Troy and PJ knew they could count on her to know all the juicy details about Chloe's rather secretive life.

However, immediately after typing that tantalizing message, Michelle stood up and went to the restroom. Troy and PJ exchanged annoyed looks while she purposely took her time keeping them hanging. Two minutes later, when Michelle returned to her desk, they bombarded the chat box—

"_WELL?!_"

Michelle sighed audibly and began typing. "_It's really none of your beeswax but Chloe just isn't looking for anything serious. No boyfriend, just flings when she can find the time._"

Troy began typing a dignified response about how he acknowledged that it wasn't any of his business and that he was simply interested in getting to know his co-worker better—to improve their team dynamics, of course—when PJ blew past all that and brusquely demanded, "_How d'you know?_"

"_We hooked up when she first moved here then she told me._"

"_Pics or it didn't happen!_"

Chloe looked up from her desk just in time to catch Michelle giving PJ the finger. Considering the office had been quiet for the past couple of minutes, and that there was no discernable reason why PJ deserved to be flipped off (at least not today), Chloe narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What's going on?"

PJ and Troy simultaneously clicked their chat boxes shut and muttered a guilty "Nothing" in unison so Chloe walked over to Michelle's desk and read the conversation while the graphic designer leaned back smugly and let her.

Chloe laughed. "You guys could have just asked me. Although I _do_ draw a line at sleeping with my boss," she added, throwing a teasing look at Troy. When PJ straightened up excitedly, she immediately added, "And I think I'll add co-workers to that rule."

"No fair! What about Michelle?"

The said woman shrugged. "I didn't think she'd get hired."

"Gee, thanks," Chloe replied sarcastically.

"Hey, someone's gotta keep that ego of yours in check," smirked Michelle, "what with fifty percent of the office wanting to get in your pants."

At this point Troy cleared his throat loudly and told them all to get back to work. "I'm sorry about that, Chloe," he added to Chloe with an apologetic and embarrassed grimace. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Well, you got me lunch so let's call it even?" Chloe said good-naturedly. She started to head back to her desk but spun around midway when she caught sight of the office clock. "Oh, but can you _also_ make it up to me by letting me leave early today? And by early I mean right now."

"Uh, yeah, sure. But why?" asked Troy. It was only three in the afternoon—not that he thought she didn't deserve to take an early Friday off; Chloe had probably amassed enough overtime hours to take a month off.

"You got another a cappella shindig to attend?" PJ called from his desk. He never missed an opportunity to tease Chloe about a discovery they all had made a few weeks ago when she came to work late and surprisingly hung-over (the first and only time) one Monday morning after a night spent with her former a cappella group. "Let me guess—you're going to a karaoke bar to sing show tunes?"

Chloe stuck her tongue out at him as she began gathering her things. "Actually, I'm going to pick my new roommate up from the airport—"

"New roommate?" Michelle asked, surprised. "I asked you if you were looking for one and you said no! What, do you have a rule against sleeping with roommates, too?"

Chloe clamped the remainder of her lunch between her teeth so she didn't have to dignify that with a response, waving cheekily at her co-workers as the elevator doors closed on their amused faces.

* * *

_**Lincoln Center – April 2014**_

"And the winner of the 2014 ICCA Championships… for the _third_ consecutive time!" The crowd cheered wildly, as it was obvious that the winner was "—the _BARDEN BELLAS!_"

Chloe watched proudly as Beca led the girls to the stage and accepted the trophy with a grateful yet slightly cocky smirk. From the looks of it, there had been no question on any of the Bellas' minds (nor the audiences' for that matter) of who would take home the trophy that night. Very few a cappella groups across the country managed to match what Beca had accomplished with the Bellas, and those that did well enough to reach the finals still got blown away. One of which, Chloe noticed, was a certain maroon-clad, all-male a cappella group…

After a couple of photos with the first and second runner-ups, the Bellas retired backstage and Chloe nervously made her way slowly down the familiar aisle toward the dressing rooms.

* * *

"Hey, Becs, the club is asking if you prefer to set up your own equipment or…?" Stacie asked with her phone pressed against her ear while she reapplied her lipstick in front of the mirror.

Beca looked up from the text she had just sent Aubrey and nodded indifferently. "Tell them they can go ahead. I only need to change a few things anyway."

"_Ginger!_"

Beca whipped her head toward the door, where Fat Amy was already squeezing her victim in a bone-crushing hug. The other Bellas squealed in delight, rushed over, and surrounded their redheaded former co-captain to start a round of hugs. Beca waited for her turn, feeling slightly jittery until, finally, a space cleared and she locked eyes with Chloe.

Beca mirrored Chloe's slightly embarrassed smile as they closed the distance and fell into a long overdue embrace. Almost two years had passed since they had last seen each other so Beca tried to channel two years' worth of hugs into one… but immediately sensing the changes in Chloe distracted her from accomplishing that.

The demands of traveling around the world with only a backpack and some camera equipment must have been physically demanding on Chloe given that she felt a lot leaner in Beca's arms. In contrast to her tough physique, Chloe was (very noticeably) milder and more demure in her demeanor, judging by the fact that she didn't jump up and down and squeal like her Bella sisters upon entering. Again, Beca assumed that there weren't many opportunities to be bubbly and enthusiastic while living a nomadic lifestyle. And finally, with her chin nestled on Chloe's shoulder, Beca inhaled a crisp, fresh forest-y scent that was worlds away from the sweet, fruity smell that followed Chloe everywhere back when she was at Barden.

When Chloe pulled away from the hug first—another obvious change—Flo popped up beside Beca and introduced herself to the former Bella. "Hello! My name in _American_ papers—" she gave Chloe a conspicuous wink "—is Florencia Fuentes, but you can call me Flo. I am honored to meet someone who has crossed as many international borders legally as you have."

Chloe smiled through her confusion and extended a hand. "It's nice to meet you, Flo."

Beca watched the handshake curiously. The mere fact that it was a handshake and not a hug for a new Bella sister only confused Beca more, but she shook her head and reminded herself that it had been _two years_ since Chloe graduated and, unlike Beca, she hadn't spent those two years living with a cappella nerds.

Maybe being aca-affectionate was a symptom of over-exposure to all things a cappella, and Chloe had finally gotten it out of her system.

"By the way, Chlo, I _love_ your classy new look. It's future fashion icon worthy," admired Stacie, giving the redhead an appraising once over. "_Very_ R. Kelly."

Fat Amy frowned. "You mean _Grace _Kelly."

Stacie shook her head. "No, _R._ Kelly. All that gorgeous black leather—if you were a couch I'd totally do it _on_ you."

Chloe cracked a smile and proceeded to talk about the jacket's ethical history or... something…

Beca wasn't really paying attention.

She was glad that the girls' silliness brought back some life into Chloe—though Stacie wasn't wrong about her assessment of Chloe's new style. Normally, Beca would think black on black was too much (even for her own tastes) but on Chloe it looked almost _casual_. Chloe's style had never been found wanting in the past, but compared to blouses and sundresses there was certainly a more down-to-earth quality to it now that Beca found herself oddly noticing...

"And to quote the great R. Kelly himself," said Cynthia Rose, breaking Beca out of her thoughts, "_after the show it's the—_?"

"_After-party!_" sang the girls, in perfect pitch and harmony.

Beca noted the impressed look on Chloe's face, probably due to the fact that the Bellas have managed to improve beyond harmonizing "ah's" after three.

Or was it _on_ three…?

"Let's _go_!" Fat Amy said enthusiastically, herding them toward the exit. "I don't want to wait until 'round about four to clear the lobby, if you know what I mean."

Jessica and Ashley exchanged disgusted looks. "We _always_ know what you mean."

Beca made sure to position herself beside Chloe as everyone else made her way out of the dressing room. Chloe turned to her and asked, "I thought she and Bumper were together?"

"Oh, they are," nodded Beca. "Yeah, she was referring to him. On one hand it's cute that he's sort of the Bellas' biggest groupie now, but on the other hand… it's not."

Chloe chuckled and motioned toward the door. "Shall we go?"

Beca looked around and realized they were the only ones left in the room. "Oh. Yeah. Um, the club's just a couple of blocks down. I'm pretty sure Fat Amy's gonna want to take a cab but we could just walk together if you want."

"Sure," shrugged Chloe. She followed Beca out the backstage area and asked, "Couple of blocks down? Isn't that—?"

"The same club where we celebrated our first win? Yeah. I actually hadn't realized that it was the same one until Aubrey mentioned it last year. But on the plus side the Bellas are now pretty much regulars and the owner lets me DJ."

"That's great." Chloe gave her a quick smile before biting her lip guiltily. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there last year."

Beca quickly dismissed her apology. "Don't be. Aubrey was a couple of hours away, you were… climbing the Himalayas or something."

"You were stalking me?"

Beca countered Chloe's smirk with her own. "It's called _following_, Chloe. Anyone with an Instagram account could figure out where you were. At least, most of the time they did." She bumped Chloe's shoulder playfully. "You're pretty hard to get a hold of when you want to be, you know?"

Chloe bowed her head. "Yeah… I'm sorry about that, too. It's just… I set off with a goal in mind and I needed to focus on some things…"

Chloe's discomfort was palpable so Beca backtracked. "Hey, the important thing is that you're here right now. We have tonight to make up for lost time and catch up... Like, how's Luke anyway?"

As though a switch had been turned on, Chloe's face brightened instantly. "He's great! He's back in London working for his uncle and he's in a pretty serious relationship with someone we met while we were in India. Can you believe that?"

"Wow." Beca was happy for her former boss, but her brain continued to process the information beyond that to arrive at a conclusion that could have used a stronger verbal filter. "So not all of your hook-ups were one night stands, then."

Only when all the words were out did Beca realize their connotation. She winced and started apologizing profusely.

"Relax," laughed Chloe. "Yeah, I hooked up with people along the way." She cocked her head in amusement. "You got that from my pictures?"

"The comments weren't exactly subtle."

Chloe nodded reflectively. "I guess I developed a pretty carefree attitude when it comes to sex. I mean, being in one city after another, you meet a lot of interesting people for a really short amount of time. You learn to make the most of it and not get bogged down in the details."

The signal turned white and they followed the crowd through the crosswalk in silence. Beca didn't want to seem like she was judging Chloe—really, she wasn't—so she looked for a change in subject to cut the silence short, until Chloe came up with one herself.

"But enough about me," she said as they stopped in front of the club, outside of which a short queue had formed. "What have _you_ been up to?"

Beca looked at the door and back to Chloe. "Well…"

* * *

Once the bouncer had let them in ahead of everyone else, Chloe and Beca were greeted by a party almost in full swing. A large banner was draped across the top of the stage congratulating the Bellas on their three-peat and a screen near the DJ booth promoted Beca as the featured DJ of the night. People lounging around the booths and tables—most of them ICCA contestants and their supporters—greeted and congratulated Beca personally as she led Chloe to the bar.

"You've made quite a name for yourself," said Chloe, impressed.

"Only in the a cappella world, but I have to start somewhere, right?" said Beca. "Hey, look, I gotta go deal with some equipment stuff real quick but I'll be right back…" She parked Chloe at a barstool, waved to get the bartender's attention, and pointed at Chloe. "She drinks for free, all right? It's on us."

"You sure you can afford me? This ginger needs _a lot_ of jiggle juice tonight."

Beca's face split into a wide grin. She was too happy to hear the iconic expression that she missed what it might imply. "Don't worry about it. Do you have any idea how many alumnae and freakin' a cappella _societies_ sent us donations after you and Aubrey left?"

Chloe raised her eyebrow and waited while Beca replayed the sentence in her head. "Not _because_ you and Aubrey left—!"

Chloe laughed to let her know she was kidding. "Go on, set up your equipment. I'll be fine here."

"Okay." Beca took a beat to look at Chloe in the eyes and make sure that the redhead was really there in front of her… different in so many ways yet hopefully still the same. "I'll be back soon. I promise."

* * *

"So what's your poison?"

Chloe turned to the bartender after watching Beca walk away. "Oh, that's a secret," she replied coyly. "But I'll have an old fashioned for starters."

The bartender gave her an approving smirk. "Coming right up."

As he turned away to prepare the drink, Fat Amy came, beer in hand, and occupied the empty stool beside Chloe's. "So," she said, "you're back."

"Yeah, I've been in New York for three months now."

"I meant back in our lives," said Fat Amy. "You really dropped out for a while there."

Chloe nodded apologetically but this was Fat Amy; she didn't have to come up with an excuse for why she left. "I just needed to, you know?"

"Yeah…"

Chloe knew that Fat Amy was looking at her intently, so she busied herself with watching her drink being made until she thought of a new topic—which was actually quite easy. "Oh, hey, I visited Tasmania."

Fat Amy's stare dissolved almost instantly. "Yeah?" she said excitedly. "How'd you like it?"

"It was beautiful! God, you're incredibly lucky to have grown up there. The mountains, the forests—"

"Yeah, uh-huh," Fat Amy brushed off Chloe's favorite places, "but what about the World Dingo Wrestling championships? Wait—were you there in February? Or were you there for the Mermaid Festival in August? Or…"

"You know, I can't believe I missed all of that," said Chloe, humoring the Tasmanian after she had finished listing all the lesser-known attractions of her homeland.

Fat Amy shook her head in mock disappointment, muttering something about "tourists." Chloe's drink was served and after a comfortable silence, she added, "It's really good to see you though, ginger. I was a bit worried you would never show your face again. You know, considering how things were left."

Chloe frowned in the middle of taking a sip. "Things were left fine, Amy."

Fat Amy gave her a disbelieving look. "Sure they were. _That's_ why you took off the morning after graduation for an impromptu, soul-searching, sexual walkabout around the world with a smokin' hot Englishman," she scoffed, "because everything was _fine_."

Chloe pursed her lips and merely shrugged.

"But everything's okay now, I suppose? I mean, you've had two years and," Fat Amy jerked her head toward the stage, "you seem to be getting on all right with the Captain."

"Well, things between us were already fine when I left," insisted Chloe. She started to worry that her defensiveness was making her appear in denial.

"Did you hear about her and Aubrey?"

Chloe assumed she was referring to the breakup and nodded. "How did Beca handle it?" she asked, not so much out of curiosity as it was out of politeness.

"Well, she wasn't a mess—not that any of us was expecting that. They sort of talked and it was over, just like that. It was a very cleanbreak," remarked Fat Amy.

Chloe nodded again and literally looked around the club for a change in topic.

"You should know that—"

"Amy, no offense," Chloe cut in, turning her attention away from a guy doing the worm on the dance floor, "and I don't mean to sound rude but I don't think I _'should'_ know anything. Beca and Aubrey's relationship, or even their break-up, was never any of my business. I came here to support the Bellas, that's all. Besides, after all this time being away from Beca, frankly, I don't think I matter all that much in her life anymore to—"

Chloe's attention was suddenly drawn to the center of the club where a small crowd had gathered, chanting Beca's name. The tiny DJ looked up from the equipment she was setting up with a crooked smile, looking slightly embarrassed yet proud (Chloe wondered how she managed to do that, and whether it was done consciously) to have people clamoring for her so early in the evening.

"I'm not on for another hour and a half… but since you guys asked so nicely," she said cockily into the nearby microphone. The small crowd cheered again and Beca pulled the microphone closer as she moved around the table. "Although, I would've thought your minds needed some rest after the Bellas blew it with our set tonight."

The crowd cheered in approval. For someone who claimed to be antisocial, Chloe thought, Beca certainly knew how to pander to an audience.

"Now… this is just a little something I've been working on," the DJ said as she prepped the tracks. "So don't anybody try to steal it and turn it into an arrangement."

The crowd laughed and Chloe found herself wondering if Beca had always been confident, or if she was just noticing Beca's confidence now.

"And since we're all here for a night of celebrating a cappella, I'd like to give a shout out to a very special guest tonight." Beca looked past the crowd and smirked in Chloe's direction. "She co-captained the Bellas during our 2012 season which, as you all know, was the year we started kicking all your asses." (More hoots and cheers, despite majority of the crowd being the competition.) "She puts the _belle_ in Bellas—okay, forget I ever said that; that was lame—"

Chloe shook her head in flattered amusement.

"Anyway… here's to Chloe Beale!"

"Woo!" The Bellas—dispersed around the club—raised their glasses and bottles, and other aca-people respectfully followed suit. Chloe smiled humbly at them all and tried to hide her amazement; in all her fours years at Barden, never did the Bellas, or even a single Bella, command the respect of an entire room—let alone a Manhattan club full—of a cappella fans.

"Well, ginge," Fat Amy said heavily after taking a swig of her beer, effectively pulling Chloe's focus away from the DJ, "tough. 'Cause it seems to me like Beca still thinks you matter in her life."

* * *

**PART II**

_**New Year's Eve – December 2013**_

"Aubrey, wait!"

Familiar faces turned to her in concern as she pushed past them—Stacie's, Fat Amy's, Cynthia Rose's—but Aubrey didn't care. She needed to get out of that club for some air, lest history repeat itself and she vomit all over a row of people.

"Aubrey!" Beca called after her. "I'm sorry—but you were leaning in and I was getting guilt flashbacks—"

"I was reaching for the fries!" Aubrey cried once they were outside. She then inhaled a lungful of crisp, cold air.

"I—didn't realize that. Okay, that one's on me."

"But that's not what I'm upset about!" Aubrey paused. "I _am_ upset that you didn't tell me about Chloe sooner."

Beca sighed, then said, "I thought about telling you when we broke up—"

Aubrey ran a hand distractedly through her hair. "We shouldn't have gotten together at all."

"—but Chloe made me promise… Wait, what?" Beca looked at her in confusion.

"You should have chosen her," said Aubrey, so quietly that Beca barely heard her over the obnoxious noisemakers. "Or, at the very least, you should have ended things with me the moment you found out!"

Beca was stunned. "What are you talking about? _Bree_," she said, taking Aubrey firmly by the shoulders to stop the blonde's frantic pacing, "Chloe was special to both of us but she had nothing to do with how I felt about you…" Beca looked around and moved them to a more private area. "I chose you because you deserved to be chosen, because I loved you, and because you needed me and I needed you."

"And because you were selfish," added Aubrey. She wasn't accusing Beca, only trying to understand her decision to pursue their relationship in light of the revelation.

Aubrey wondered if she would have fought Chloe for Beca with the same fierce determination she fought Jesse with, had Beca told her about Chloe's confession that same night. And as soon as she asked herself that question she knew that the answer was no. If she knew that Chloe was in love with Beca, too, she would have backed down at once because… it was Chloe. Aubrey wouldn't do that to her best friend.

And the thought of having done it anyway was killing her.

"I thought I was being self_less_," Beca quietly conceded after a while. "I didn't want a relationship with her because—come on, you and I _both_ know she could do so much better—"

"So you thought you were saving her by rejecting her," nodded Aubrey. "Oh, the irony."

They stood facing each other, oblivious to the celebrations around them, and contemplated the consequences of their actions—actions done almost _two years_ ago.

Aubrey was tempted to believe that her relationship with Beca was tainted from the beginning because of this, but the fact that they had made it work was evidence against that. She couldn't help but wonder, however, if their circumstance was the reason Chloe had left abruptly…

"So… are we okay?"

Aubrey looked up at Beca's sheepish expression and thought about the outcome instead of the consequence: Their time together, however brief and even more controversial than she had originally thought, was unquestionably the right decision for either of them. She loved Beca and considered it one of the greatest gifts of her life to be loved by her; and she had no doubt that Beca felt the same. They had become better versions of themselves in their relationship that convincing herself that life would have been better if she knew about Chloe's confession would be impossible.

Aubrey gave Beca a small encouraging smile. "_We _are," she said, gesturing between them. "But I desperately need to talk to Chloe—"

"No!" Beca suddenly cried in panic. "Sorry, it's just—she made me promise not to tell you. I kind of don't want to disappoint her any more than I already have."

"Beca, she's my _best friend_; I can't just let something like this pass!"

"I know, but it's been almost two years," reasoned Beca. "Chloe's been gone for so long and who knows when, or _if_ she's even coming back—"

Aubrey frowned. "Chloe is coming home in three weeks."

Beca did a double take. "She—is?"

"You didn't…?" Aubrey bit her tongue. She had been e-mailing Chloe fairly regularly ever since she received one from her, apologizing for leaving so quickly. It never occurred to her that Chloe hadn't been keeping the other Bellas as updated on her life as she was keeping her.

Beca apparently realized the same thing because she slumped against the wall of the club dejectedly. "She hates me."

Aubrey walked over. "Don't be so melodramatic. She doesn't _hate_ you. Trust me, I've been her roommate for four years; she doesn't know how to hate _anyone_."

"Two years is plenty of time to learn."

Aubrey's confidence faltered, and she considered that Beca might be right. It only made her yearn to see Chloe and apologize even more. Once upon a time she swore to herself that Chloe was her forever, her safe place; she wasn't going to let her slip away. But Aubrey took comfort in the fact that Chloe had never _truly_ left her—at least she got e-mails.

"What do I do?"

There was one more piece of news Aubrey hadn't revealed to Beca—

"Well, that depends," she said carefully. "What do you want to happen?"

—Chloe would be living in New York City, which provided a small window of opportunity for Beca to—

"I don't know, really."

Aubrey threw her hands up. "Beca! You've—_we_ have screwed her over enough already. Don't you think you ought to know what you want before you potentially come barging back into her life?"

"I just want to us to be friends again," Beca said rationally. "She was kind of my only real friend at Barden for a long time… I miss her."

Aubrey narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she realized that Chloe _had_ been Beca's closest friend even _while_ she was harboring romantic feelings for the DJ.

"Hang on. You _were_ friends with her—for _months_," emphasized Aubrey. "Are you sure nothing ever happened? I mean it's not like Chloe to keep a crush secret…" She stopped herself to steer the conversation away from her own history. "You said she wasn't sure about _you_ liking girls—you never mentioned you were bisexual?"

Beca raised her eyebrows defensively. "I didn't want her to get the wrong idea by telling her something like that out of the blue!"

"You didn't want _her_ to get the wrong idea? Beca, she burst into your shower naked!"

"I thought the showers were where you nerds do underground recruiting or something! I mean, it happened on _Glee—_"

"You watch _Glee_?"

"Let's try to stay on topic here, okay?"

"Right…"

They didn't say anything for a while and Aubrey took that opportunity to contemplate one last time before finally revealing to Beca: "Chloe is planning to settle in New York when she gets back."

Beca looked at her in surprise, then disappointment, and, finally, determination. "The ICCAs."

Aubrey nodded. "That's your chance to apologize and make it up to her—if you really think you need it."

"I do," affirmed Beca. "She left so quickly, I didn't get a chance to say everything I wanted to say to her. And I need to do it in person."

"Then the Bellas better make it to the finals this year," Aubrey said with a light smirk.

"Yeah, that'll be a stretch," Beca replied sarcastically; they both knew the Bellas were a shoo-in. Then she cleared her throat and asked, "How about you, what are you going to do?"

Aubrey pushed herself off the wall and dusted her backside. "I'm sorry, Beca, but I'm going to have to tell her you told me so I can apologize. And that's really all I can do now: apologize. Then I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to her because Chloe is…" She looked back at Beca, whose eyes were filled with the same earnest determination that Aubrey felt inside. "Well, you know how it feels. She's someone you want to keep in your life."

* * *

_**Central Park – February 2014**_

"Chloe!"

Chloe spun around and followed the sound of her name to where Aubrey was rising from an iron bench, waving her arm in the air, and broke into a smile. It had been long enough that Chloe had to recommit Aubrey's face to memory, but not long enough that there was no familiarity.

"I left my apartment thirty minutes early and you're _still_ here first!" Chloe laughed as she glided past Central Park's other visitors to wrap her arms around her best friend. The first thing she noticed was that Aubrey wore a different perfume now. It was a sweeter and less intimidating bouquet than the one she wore in college.

"So I—"

"Not done!" came Aubrey's muffled protest as she squeezed Chloe tighter when she made to pull back.

Chloe laughed fondly and returned the gesture. A few more seconds into their embrace, she gently rubbed Aubrey's back and whispered, "I missed you, too."

When they finally pulled apart, Chloe was not surprised to see tears in the blonde's eyes (there were plenty in hers as well) but she was surprised to hear a barrage of apologies being made out of the blue.

"Bree, don't be silly! I've always said hugs needed to be longer—"

But Aubrey shook her head. "I'm sorry about what happened with Beca," she corrected. When Chloe frowned, Aubrey added, "She told me everything."

Chloe opened her mouth but no words came out. She didn't know whether to be more surprised by Beca's betrayal, or by Aubrey's decision to start their reunion with _this_—on second thought, Chloe _did_ know. Aubrey was never one to dawdle around the big issues. How was this any different?

"I can't believe she—"

"Don't be mad at Beca," pleaded Aubrey, pulling Chloe down on the bench beside her. "If anything, you should be mad at me." She shook her head miserably. "For months I've been trying to figure out what to say to you when you got back and now I can't even—"

Chloe turned her attention away from Beca breaking her promise and focused instead on her distraught friend. "Aubrey," she said softly, trying to break through the blonde's rambling.

"—after everything I put you through?" Aubrey's breath shuddered, releasing a cloud of condensate into the frosty winter air. "How can you not _hate_ me right now? You should have cut me out of your life when you had the chance—"

"_Aubrey_," Chloe repeated more firmly. Seeing Aubrey doubt their friendship was precisely the reason she didn't want Beca to tell her about what happened between them. And it scared her how quickly it eroded Aubrey's faith in her. "Listen to me. All that stuff that happened with Beca doesn't erase the four years I've cherished with _you_." She grasped Aubrey's hand in hers. "I can never hate you, you know that."

Aubrey raised her head slowly and looked for sincerity in Chloe's eyes, and Chloe saw that she seemed to be fighting an internal battle, torn between guilt and absolution. "But why didn't you say anything?" Aubrey asked after a long pause. To Chloe's dismay, she seemed determined to get to the bottom of the can of worms she had opened. "Why didn't you tell me you liked Beca? Or better yet, why didn't you go for her when you had the chance—?"

"Aubrey, please." Chloe had spent many sleepless nights asking herself the same questions years ago, and the answers no longer mattered. "I don't want to talk about this, much less on the day we—"

"Then I'm sorry but I'm going to have to take that as you hating me."

Chloe pursed her lips and glared half-heartedly at Aubrey, but her former co-captain held her ground. "I. Don't. Hate. You," Chloe reiterated forcefully.

Aubrey shrugged defiantly. "Apparently, you're pretty good at keeping your true feelings locked up. Why should I believe that you don't _secretly _hate me?"

"Because you're my best friend! More than that, you're like my sister! I've spent Christmases with you, I've laughed _and_ cried until I was nothing but a blubbering mess with you," Chloe argued. "I know I've been gone a long time but you're still my best friend and I love you."

The corner of Aubrey's mouth quirked, which Chloe took as a sign of success in convincing her. But Aubrey rearranged her features and folded her arms. "Just because you love me doesn't mean you don't hate me."

Chloe groaned in frustration. "When did you get so stubborn?"

"I learned from the best," quipped Aubrey. She let the reference settle for a moment before continuing. "Come on, Chloe. We need to get past this for the sake of our friendship." Chloe opened her mouth to give reassurance that they were fine, but Aubrey cut her off. "If not for you, then for me."

Chloe closed her mouth and conceded with a small nod. Aubrey deserved to be able to process and get over this as much as she had. With a heavy sigh, she explained, "I didn't tell you about Beca because you might've assumed that I was only sticking up for her during practice just because I liked her—"

"Which, admittedly, I would have," Aubrey said remorsefully. "And it would've been bad for the Bellas because she really _was_ great."

"Right. And at that time I didn't think Beca was into girls, so I didn't tell her. And when I found out that she was, well, she was… already with you." Chloe waved her hand dismissively. "Honestly, Bree, it's really that simple—"

"Nothing about our situation was simple," Aubrey corrected with a sad smile. "But that still doesn't explain why you didn't do anything about it _before_ the ICCAs."

"I just told you—I didn't think Beca was going to reciprocate anyway so why ruin our friendship?"

"You weren't sure _I _was going to reciprocate when you told me you liked _me_," Aubrey pointed out.

"Yeah, and you didn't," Chloe pointed out with vindication. "I learned from my mistake."

"Only it wasn't a _mistake_ that you told me, was it?"

Aubrey was looking at her knowingly. Chloe chewed the inside of her cheek. "No, it wasn't," she eventually admitted. Confessing her feelings to Aubrey had not just been a milestone in their friendship, it was also a pivotal moment in her own personal growth, leading her to being open about who she was and liked.

"So it wasn't really learning from mistakes that kept you from telling her," Aubrey commented, "it was a fear of rejection."

Chloe held up a finger defensively. "Maybe so, but I was still right anyway and she rejected me. And it wasn't _just _a fear of rejection," she huffed, "she still liked Jesse that time—"

"You can't use Jesse as a defense _and_ be the same person who once told me that Jesse ought to let whoever is best for Beca be with her," Aubrey said, wagging her finger at Chloe. "Unless you thought Jesse _was_ better for her?"

"He was less complicated."

"Call me a hypocrite but what's complicated about a girl loving another girl?" Aubrey asked cheekily, invoking the same words Chloe had used on her years ago.

"Hypocrite!" Chloe accused in jest. "You big, fluffy hypocrite!" When Aubrey kept looking at her expectantly, she caved. "Fine, I was scared of rejection. But why does it matter? So what if I didn't tell Beca? D'you know what I _did_ tell her after graduation? I told her I was glad that things turned out the way they did and, Bree, I wasn't lying. So it doesn't matter that—"

"It matters to _me_, Chloe!" insisted Aubrey. "It matters because I'm worried that _I_ put that fear in you! That all of this—this huge mess with Beca, the fact that you only dated jerks—started because instead of talking about what happened _that_ night during the Christmas party, I kept it buried with all the other uncomfortable things in my life. I should have told you that it wasn't about not liking you—"

"Bree, of course I knew that!" Chloe assured her, surprised that her best friend had contemplated that far into the past. "We were so young then—neither of us was ready to deal with me liking a girl for the first time. Then we met Beca three years later and, well, I didn't know how to deal with _her_ not liking girls. My mistakes with Beca had nothing to do with you."

Chloe judged Aubrey's expression and sighed. "You don't look satisfied."

Aubrey bit her lip but, fortunately, it looked as though they had gotten to the core of Aubrey's concerns. "Just tell me one thing, Chloe. Why was it easier for you to risk _our_ friendship than it was to risk Beca's?"

Chloe breathed an internal sigh of relief. Typical Aubrey Posen, always wanting to be the 'best' at everything. "I was an impulsive freshman," Chloe explained patiently. "Not to mention halfway out of the closet and emotionally screwed up. We'd known each other for three months, I didn't know any better."

"I'm talking about the night you finally told Beca that you loved her."

Chloe froze.

"Did she matter to you more than I did?"

* * *

**PART III**

_** Manhattan Night Club – April 2014**_

Like any decent opening DJ would, Beca knew that her aim wasn't to get people on the dance floor this early in the night. The aca-nerds were just being, well, nerds when they saw her on stage; they didn't _actually_ want to get the party going just yet. So Beca kept a low tempo to keep heads bobbing and feet tapping while everyone returned to mingling and/or flirting with each other.

And speaking of flirting…

In a quintessential movie-moment that even surprised her, Beca gazed across the club and saw Chloe still sitting at the bar, only Fat Amy had now been replaced by the captain of some other a cappella group with a pun in its name that Beca couldn't remember. Although any rational person would see that the two were doing nothing more than chatting, Chloe's earlier comment about 'meeting interesting people' and 'not getting bogged down in the details' led Beca to suspect that something _could_ happen.

And she wasn't going to let anything ruin her night with Chloe. Luckily, she came prepared.

Thinking the six-minute mark was a good enough time as any to thank the crowd, promise them a great night, and hand the stage over to the actual opening DJ, Beca did so and made her way back to the bar. En route, she caught Stacie's eye and gave the soprano a knowing nod.

"Hey, you," Beca greeted Chloe loudly once she approached the bar. "I see you've met… erm…"

"Calvin," supplied the other a cappella captain. "Congrats on your third win, Beca, and on behalf of Our Ship is Canon, I'd just like say that we are _so_ looking forward to you graduating next year."

"Thanks, buddy. And maybe next year you can enter the competition with a name that actually makes a good pun," Beca shot back. Chloe's bemused expression prompted her to explain, "Just a little friendly bitching among captains. But you have to admit their name makes absolutely no sense. I mean I get canons, but what the hell do ships have to do with music?"

Calvin opened his mouth to defend when Stacie came slithering out of nowhere and onto the stool behind him. "You know what else makes absolutely no sense? How I can manage to put both my legs behind my head without using my hands—"

Once Calvin was (rather easily) distracted, Beca swept Chloe and her drink away, into an empty booth.

"That felt surprisingly well-rehearsed," Chloe remarked amusedly, watching over her shoulder as Stacie came up with a flimsy excuse to leave Calvin standing alone by the bar, looking confused at what had just happened. "Aww, now I feel kind of bad for him."

"Don't be. Tonight's about us," Beca said firmly. "I don't want any 'interesting people' getting in the way."

Chloe lowered her glass when it was halfway to her lips and chuckled. "Wow, my casual hook-ups really bothered you, huh?"

"It's just a little weird," said Beca, struggling to be nonchalant. "I never saw you as the type. I mean, you were with Tom the entire time I knew you and then—"

Chloe raised an eyebrow, as though daring Beca to continue.

Beca had backed herself into a corner; she didn't expect this part of their history to come up so soon. Although to be fair, she didn't expect Fat Amy to leave Chloe alone at the bar so quickly either. Chloe, however, looked the furthest thing from uncomfortable, so maybe there was no reason for Beca to worry about bringing it up.

"—yeah…"

But that didn't mean she _wanted_ to.

Chloe must have sensed her backing off because she merely smiled and shrugged. "People change, Beca. You did."

Beca cocked her head questioningly.

"That was a whole new you up on that stage. I've never seen you hype before. And getting into bitchy fights with other a cappella nerds, seriously? Don't tell me you're getting straight A's now, too."

Beca smirked as she got the reference to her ex—after which she internally cringed for calling Aubrey her ex. At this point in their relationship, Aubrey was more like the long-distance best friend she never thought she'd want; the bossy and over-achieving but loyal and dependable type. Aubrey wasn't just the "ex"; not after everything they'd been through.

"Nah, I'm still keeping it real down in the C, C plus range," joked Beca. "So, not **everything** has changed."

But Chloe hummed, clearly unconvinced.

* * *

Minutes later, Beca lifted off the left ear pad and gave the newly laid track time to simmer. She glanced toward the easily identifiable group of girls dancing at the center of the floor and her heart swelled with pride at seeing Chloe clearly enjoying her music. (Beca didn't actually know what it would look like if Chloe _didn't_ enjoy her music, since every single time Beca played for her in the past, the redhead had enthusiastically claimed to have loved it.)

But Beca really felt the urge to make Chloe enjoy her set on this particular night—on the night Chloe would be witness to the Bellas' success—which only intensified the pleasure of apparently achieving that goal. But, while Chloe couldn't be accused of being stingy with her praises and compliments all night, something was taking away from that pleasure.

Normally, Chloe would be driving their conversations with all her charm and humor, and Beca would fire as many sarcastic and defiant remarks as she could and see where it went from there. They could talk for hours, nonstop. But tonight Beca found herself struggling to keep their conversations afloat.

And normally, being around the ever so cheerful and effervescent Chloe brought out Beca's innate need to quell those emotions, but tonight it seemed that Chloe couldn't be bothered to point out all the wonderful things about living in New York City, and even downplayed the excitement of her travels around the world when the Bellas had asked about them.

But Beca reminded herself that 'normal' wasn't what she should expect, since it had been two years since they last had that kind of rapport. And although Chloe wasn't completely out of character tonight—she obviously still danced like she was channeling a musical goddess—Beca thought that maybe it wasn't actually a bad thing that their dynamic was changing. Because tonight it seemed like Chloe was…

—Beca watched as Chloe excused herself from the dance floor and headed away from the stage—

… she couldn't quite put her finger on it…

—Under the brighter lights of the bar, Beca saw her, face slightly gleaming and flushed. She took an offer of tequila, then turned around and caught Beca staring. She downed the shot, licked her lips dry, and smiled at Beca.

_Human._

* * *

_**Central Park – February 2014**_

"When you asked her to consider you, _days_ after she and I got together… I'm sure you knew what it could do to our friendship if she had."

Aubrey was not angry; her tone was curious and matter-of-fact. And despite the incendiary nature of her question, she knew it was the final barrier left before she could be one hundred percent certain that Chloe had gotten closure.

"I was an impulsive senior," Chloe said, matching her earlier defense. "I thought I had nothing to lose by telling her how I felt."

"Nothing to lose, huh?" Aubrey smirked. "That's certainly a different tone from earlier when you were telling me you loved me like a sister."

Chloe seemed to have regretted her choice of words and apologized. "I was a complete mess that night," she explained. "I was looking for you."

Aubrey nodded. Beca had told her as much. "To tell me about your feelings for Beca?"

Chloe shook her head. "To ask why you thought Beca was better for you then than I was three years earlier."

Aubrey's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "R-really? You were going to ask me _that_?" She swallowed, her mind simultaneously racing to find the answer she would have given and trying to stop itself from doing so.

"Stupid, right?" chuckled Chloe. "But we were both past what happened between us anyway, so I thought it would just get you to tell me why _you and Beca_ deserved each other. And, if I agreed with it, I could be at peace and start letting go knowing I didn't ruin anything. But if I didn't agree, well, I doubt I would have done anything anyway… so… Bree?"

Aubrey forced her brain to stop overthinking. "Sorry, I was just," she blinked, "wondering what would have happened if I'd been there instead. Beca wouldn't have known… _I _wouldn't have known—" Her head snapped up, realizing her own misspoken words. "Not that it would have been better to keep it all locked up, of course."

Chloe waved it off. "I've learned not to dwell in the past. Besides, I got my answer in the end, didn't I? You _were_ better for her. And she was better for you. And that situation was better for me."

Aubrey looked away thoughtfully. "Is that how you were able to forgive us? Believing that it was what's best for all of us?"

"Well, there's nothing to forgive—_but for the sake of argument_," Chloe preempted, before Aubrey could voice her protest, "yes. I couldn't just downplay what I felt by telling myself I just had to 'get over a crush,' so I had to find closure."

"And you're _sure_ you've found it?" Aubrey asked tentatively.

"_Yes_," Chloe said emphatically, "now can we please move on to another topic? We have tons to catch up on."

"Okay, okay. I just wanted to make sure because now that you live in New York, well… You know what's happening in three months, don't you?"

"I'll be getting kicked out of my apartment for not being able to pay rent? 'Cause, honestly, finding a job is—"

"Chloe! It's the ICCAs!"

"Oh…?" Chloe ended the syllable on a questioning inflection.

"The Bellas will want to see you," reminded Aubrey. "_Beca_ will want to see you. And apologize, too."

Chloe gave a thoughtful sigh. "I don't know, maybe I overreacted about her telling you. I mean it's been two years. We're over that relationship drama, right? I guess it's not so bad that she told you."

"And for the record, I'm glad she did," said Aubrey. "I would still prefer having this conversation with you over going my whole life without knowing how you felt."

"Although you did just screw yourself out of hearing something juicy from me on your deathbed," joked Chloe.

"In your dreams," smirked Aubrey. "You know I'm going to outlive you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yup," Aubrey said confidently. "Only by a day though, so I can put some truth in saying that I can't live a single day without my best friend."

Chloe was the only one who knew that Aubrey was a softie on the inside (even Beca only suspected it). But a childhood scarce in vocal parental affirmation made it difficult for her to put a voice to her affection, so Aubrey appreciated that, Chloe had seamlessly learned to understand that a certain look and a smile meant, "thank you and I love you."

"Aw, you're such a cheeseball now!" teased Chloe. "Don't tell me you got that from Beca!"

"All I said was that you're my best friend!" Aubrey swatted Chloe playfully on her thigh before turning more serious. "But Beca… how are things between you two now?"

"She apologized at graduation," replied Chloe. "And I told her that things were better the way they turned out. So we're good."

Aubrey looked at her closely for second. "Good."

* * *

"Right. So, no luck in your job-hunt?" the blonde said, her tone returning to its business-like quality that Chloe preferred over the apologetic one after a brief silence.

"Yeah," nodded Chloe, eager to begin a new conversation. "I've been here a week and I still can't find a place that _feels_ right."

To her surprise, Aubrey wore a mischievous smile. "I am so glad you said that," she said, fishing out a notepad from her purse and flipping through it rapidly. "You know I don't believe in coincidences or fate, but even I was tempted by this. A couple of months ago there was talk around campus about this upperclassman who was quitting to follow his passion. Of course, everyone thought he was crazy but guess what kind of company he _moved right here in New York_ to start?"

Chloe almost laughed at the excitement on her best friend's face. "A falafel stand?"

"_A photography studio!_" Aubrey ripped off a page and handed it to Chloe. "I got his details off a mutual friend. And look, the studio isn't that far from here! We can go right now—"

"I don't know, Bree. If this guy has just started the company I don't think he'll have the resources to—"

"But, Chlo, this is the perfect opportunity for you to _build_ the kind of workplace you want!" Aubrey gushed enthusiastically. "You always complained in your e-mails about how mainstream photography has lost its meaning—this Troy guy might have the same ideas!"

"But what if he doesn't? You want me to hijack this guy's own studio?"

"Trust me, no one quits Harvard Law for the _money_," quipped Aubrey. "This guy's got a vision and it's a noble one... probably."

Chloe smiled and shook her head at Aubrey, who stood up and held her gloved hand out for her to take. "Come on," urged the blonde. "On the way we can talk all about my new specialization."

Chloe's eyes widened. "You—?"

"Ah-ah." Aubrey stepped back. "_On the way_."

Chloe rolled her eyes but took the extended hand anyway.

"See? Even the bench agrees with me," noted Aubrey, nodding to the spot Chloe had cleared up by rising.

'_This Is A Place To Dream Things That Never Were—And Ask Why Not.'_

Chloe's eyes lingered at the plaque. "Well played, Posen."

* * *

_**Manhattan Night Club – April 2014**_

"Phew, that was quite a set," huffed Fat Amy, diving into a seat at their booth. "I think I may have even lost a couple of pounds with all the dancing."

"Definitely Beca's best gig," Stacie nodded in agreement, pulling Chloe down beside her. "And we've been to _all_ of them."

"Have you been holding out on us all this time, B?" Cynthia Rose grinned as Beca approached them. "That was _insane_."

"Thanks, guys," Beca smiled softly. "I'll go get us drinks."

She assumed that the girls returned to a casual conversation in the booth and was surprised to discover that Chloe had slipped out to follow Beca to the bar. "Hey, why do I get the feeling you're bending over backwards trying to impress me?" she asked bluntly, leaning her elbows on the counter beside the DJ.

Beca turned. "Because I am."

"Okay… I guess the better question is, _why_ are you bending over backwards trying to impress me?"

Beca thought for a second. "I don't know."

Chloe leveled her with a look. "You _know_ I'm proud of you and the Bellas."

"I know. You've been saying so all night," replied Beca, turning away again. "I just… I don't know, something feels…" She shook her head. "Never mind, let's not make a big deal out of this—"

"No, _let's_ make a big deal out of this," said Chloe, the slur in her words undermining their sincerity. "What's bothering you, Becs?"

Beca snapped her head to the side. It was the first time Chloe had called her by nickname and the familiarity and implied affection in contrast to how reserved Chloe had been acting all night took Beca by surprise.

And, clearly, it showed because Chloe bit her lip guiltily. "I guess I'm not doing a very good job making it seem like nothing's changed," she acknowledged with a sigh.

"I don't want you to pretend for my sake. I just—when I said not everything has changed, I only meant that I wanted things between you and me to be like they were before. And I'm talking _way_ before, not…" She trailed off sheepishly. Chloe was still being respectfully silent so she continued, "I guess I thought making you hang around the Bellas all night would make it feel like that again… but I don't think it's working."

"Hmm." Chloe accepted another shot from the bartender. "I think I know why."

Beca looked at her expectantly.

"We gotta ditch this party and go to your hotel room."

"What?" Beca let out a disbelieving laugh. "You're kidding, right?"

"Think about it," said Chloe, tracing her finger along the rim of the shot glass. "You want things between _us_ to be the way they were before. And that was just you and me. In my room. Playing your mixes and talking about whatever."

Beca paused thoughtfully. "But this party is for the Bellas," she reasoned, gesturing around them, "I can't just ditch everyone."

Chloe nodded. "I understand."

"Maybe after? I can tell Fat Amy and Bumper to find somewhere else to do the nasty."

Chloe drained the shot and winced. "Hmm. I don't know if I'll be making you another offer later; the booze might be out of my system by then."

With that confusing remark, Chloe took the tray of drinks Beca ordered and left her at the bar to wonder if she was teasing her like she always used to do, or if she was implying something by saying she needed alcohol to be alone with Beca.

* * *

_**Central Park – February 2014**_

"_Hey. I'm on my way back to campus. I just spent the day with Chloe and…_"

Aubrey sighed, looking up from the text she was composing to stare out at the bustling train station. She sighted a young couple with their arms wrapped around each other against the cold and suddenly felt a shiver.

"…_I know you're looking forward to seeing her again but unless you've come up with a plan since we last met but just give her some space, okay? I know you want to get your friendship back on track but try to see where she is before you do anything._"

Aubrey paused, wondering if it was the right advice to give, and hit send before arriving at the answer.

_She apologized at graduation... We're good._

Two years apart from Chloe did nothing to weaken Aubrey's ability to read her—not just her dead-giveaway eyes but also her body language and tone. It was a very different task, she admitted to herself. Almost like Chloe had learned to translate her subtle gestures into another language. Yet somehow her body language was still the same—enough for Aubrey to know that she was insisting that things between her and Beca were 'good' when they might not be.

She loved them both and would do her best to avoid the disaster that she could only see happening if things come to a head.

* * *

**PART IV**

_**Beca's Hotel Room – April 2014**_

"So… here we are."

"Here we are," nodded Chloe. She glanced around the hotel room. It was a mirrored version of the one she had shared with Aubrey two years ago, with the bathroom and kitchen on the right side instead of the left.

"Do you want something? Coffee? Water?" asked Beca, gesturing over to the small kitchen. "You had a lot to drink tonight."

"No, thank you," smiled Chloe. "The walk over here cleared my head up a bit."

Beca would doubt that statement in a heartbeat if only she knew Chloe's tolerance well enough to bet on it. But she only remembered Chloe ever having two drinking modes—on and off—so she had to take Chloe's word for it.

Wanting to get on with mending their relationship, she made to sit on the armchair by the coffee table but changed her mind and sat on the bed instead. It was more familiar image.

She stared at Chloe, waiting for the other half of the picture to make a move.

Chloe had been following Beca with her eyes and, when the DJ finally sat down, she finally approached. The bed creaked softly when she took her place beside Beca and out of habit she leaned back until her head touched the soft white sheets.

Beca followed suit with a quiet sigh, realizing that it was the first time that evening she was getting some peace and quiet. She also realized that the thumping in her ears was not residual hearing from the club but her own beating heart.

"I forgive you, Beca."

As though Chloe had uttered magical words, everything stopped. Beca's ears were filled with the ringing silence that followed her name, and her heartbeat slowed to a painful, almost non-functioning, pace. Beca closed her eyes against the dizzying sensation of simultaneous relief and apprehension. She never realized how much she had been waiting for those words…

"I realize I've never said it out loud," Chloe continued thoughtfully, as though reading Beca's mind. "I always thought that there was nothing to forgive. I was wrong."

They lay there side by side for another few seconds; Chloe staring at the ceiling while Beca tried not to breathe too loudly while catching her breath.

"Sorry I kept you waiting two years to hear me say it. But I had to learn that it needed to be said."

Beca nodded slightly in acknowledgement; then she felt Chloe turn to her side and face her. It was just like they used to do, after Beca would plop down on her bed after a marathon rant about their lame set list. Beca had gotten her wish; Chloe was behaving more like she did before.

Tonight, however, even with being explicitly forgiven by the redhead, Beca couldn't find it in herself to return the gesture.

"I can understand if you find it hard to believe," said Chloe, once again reading Beca like an open book. "Aubrey didn't believe me at first, either, but she came to… although, convincing you will need a different approach."

Curiosity finally broke the spell and Beca turned.

Chloe smiled at their reconnection. "I was devastated when you and Aubrey got together," she recalled casually. "I loved you both with all my heart and after what happened I felt shortchanged on both ends. And what I thought was the most stupid, unfair, and painful thing about it all was that I didn't just have to let go of the person I could have given my heart and soul to. I also had to let go of my best friend a little because being happy for her would've killed me every single day."

The juxtaposition of her heartbreaking words and light tone threw Beca off but Chloe gave her a reassuring look to let her know that there was point to all of this.

"I felt so broken and so lost that night—and many days and nights after that. Until, eventually, I started to take Luke's advice seriously: I started thinking of myself. That's why I left everyone without saying goodbye; I had to be selfish. I had to care about myself because I needed the distraction.

"And I'm sorry for putting so much space between us but I'm glad I did," Chloe said sincerely, "because I discovered something that changed my life. I didn't have to be selfish to get rid of the pain; I didn't have to close up and stop loving. Instead, I gave even more love to people who needed it the most."

Chloe paused, though Beca was certain there was more. She didn't say anything but was eager to know whether their friendship was another thing that changed in Chloe's life.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is… I saw a world where hate and fear is spreading faster than love and compassion, but instead of feeling shitty about it I found something greater than my self and my pain. I met people from all over the world with their own problems and struggles—problems that would seem so trivial to me back home but meant the world to them. I want to show the world that there are people, places, and causes that need more love."

Chloe gave a small shrug. "I thought the only way I could get over you was to someday find someone that could love me as much as I loved you, to balance out the hurt. But I was wrong; what healed my heart wasn't receiving more love, it was _giving_ more."

* * *

_**Skype Video Call – Spring Break 2014**_

Aubrey smiled as the video came on and she was greeted by Chloe staring intently at her own screen. "Busy with work?" she asked.

"_Working on these contracts for Troy,_" Chloe replied distractedly. "_I have three more meetings with potential clients on Monday, I want to be prepared._"

"You're welcome," she said smugly.

Chloe finally turned away from one side of the screen to the other. She rolled her eyes and said, "_Yeah, yeah. So it turns out you were right about me liking it there. Big whoop._" Aubrey chuckled. "_How are things back home?_"

"Mom is doing well," replied Aubrey. "And I think my Dad is warming up to my specialization now that George Clooney got engaged to Amal Alamuddin; he even asked what subjects I was taking."

Chloe laughed. "_So he no longer thinks international law is soft?_"

"He's going to have to understand eventually that I won't be the cold-blooded, corporate shark he wants me to be," shrugged Aubrey. "I've found a better calling."

Chloe tucked a loose lock of her behind her ear and curiously asked, "_How _did_ you find this new calling? Not that I wanted you to be a shark—_"

"Are you kidding?" Aubrey raised her eyebrow, thinking it had always been obvious. "After all your e-mails? Hearing about all those people you met—the refugees, the villagers—reading their stories and seeing their pictures… It was all pretty eye-opening, Chlo." Her gaze strayed to the side while she voiced the reflections she had had months ago. "And fortunately there is actually something I _could_ do to help—as a future lawyer, you know. I just couldn't live with myself if I knew about what was going on in the world but just choose to accept that that's the way things are."

"_Welcome to my world,_"

Chloe had laughed, but Aubrey didn't miss the pensive expression that crossed the redhead's virtual features. She didn't have time to dwell on what it mean though, because she was bursting with excitement. "Speaking of being part of your world, I've got news…"

* * *

_**Beca's Hotel Room – April 2014**_

Beca was happy for Chloe—really, she was—but she couldn't help but wonder _how much_ Chloe had loved her if it was enough for her to never want to love again.

Because that's what Chloe was saying. As ironic as it seemed, her 'loving more' meant devoting her heart to those who needed it. And by telling Beca how much loving her had hurt—the 'different approach' she had to take—Chloe had prevented her from having a say in not sharing it with her. Chloe had moved on not just from Beca but from all of it entirely.

And for some reason that made Beca feel worse.

"Why did you love me?" Beca asked, her voice so low and soft that it almost didn't cut through the silence. "What was it about me that you fell in love with?"

Chloe didn't seem surprised by the question. And she was prepared with an answer. "Your heart. Well, I was attracted to your beauty first," she corrected with a light smirk, "but the more I got to spend time with you the more I realized that you were someone I loved immensely."

"What was it about my heart?" Beca asked curiously. Up until then she was under the impression that she had successfully kept her heart hidden throughout most of her freshman year at Barden.

"It felt like home."

"What?"

"I can't really describe it," shrugged Chloe, "but I thought we connected on some baser level because, for some reason, whenever I was around you I felt so comfortable, like I had a place in the world and it was there all along. After what happened with Aubrey, I doubted whether I could find someone who needed me as much. I love my parents but their work kind of makes a daughter feel like she's not needed, you know? With you, I… I thought I found someone whose flaws and insecurities matched mine. I thought we could be perfectly imperfect together. It's stupid, I know."

Beca shook her head. "Only because you should have realized that you were already perfect."

"But that's exactly my flaw, isn't it?" Chloe half-laughed. "At least in your eyes."

"What do you mean?"

"You thought I was perfect. And, to be fair, I thought you were, too. Perfect in your own way." She looked at Beca in the eyes for a second, and then explained, "I would never have asked you to change for me, Beca, and as a result you wouldn't have become the person you are today. I would have encouraged you to go to LA, and the Bellas wouldn't have changed your life—and _you_ wouldn't have changed the face of a cappella!"

She continued, "But Aubrey saw your potential to be better. You needed her and she needed you, too, and now you're both better off for it. You made the right decision in turning me away."

Beca mentally flinched. It was easier back then to justify being with Aubrey versus being with Chloe, but now that the romantic aspect of her relationship with Aubrey had passed… the idea of choosing between the two was bizarre. Nonetheless, she couldn't refute anything Chloe had said. So instead she tried to explain, "I had to go through Aubrey to be the person I am now, but that—"

"You mean someone who deserves me?"

Beca was taken aback by her bluntness. She leaned up on her elbow seriously. "I—no—Chloe, that's not—"

"Isn't it?" Chloe asked challengingly, copying her position. "I mean, wasn't that your plan the whole night? You found out I was living in New York so you invited me to watch the ICCAs. You impressed me by paying for my drinks, flattering me, and showing off how far you've come."

"Yes, but not because…" Beca swallowed her confused guilt and decided to be honest about what she had planned for this night. She sat upright and motioned Chloe to follow. "Look, it's true that I planned to impress you tonight, but I did it to make up for what happened between us. Even before tonight—all the time and effort I spent getting the Bellas to the ICCAs every single year… I did that for _you_. Because the Bellas meant so much to you, and I—"

It wasn't an appropriate moment in their conversation to say the L-word without risking misinterpretation, so Beca went in another direction.

"I just honestly missed you, Chloe. I mean, we were friends, weren't we? But you left so soon after graduation—without saying goodbye and without even telling me when you were coming back—that I never got to tell you how sorry I was for what happened… and how much you meant to me."

She tried to keep the accusation out of her tone when she continued, "Because you _did_ mean a lot to me. You were my closest and truest friend at Barden. You believed in me when almost no one did; that wasn't _nothing_, Chloe. No matter what happened between us, you meant something to me and you _still _do. You asked for space and I expected that but… did you really think I wouldn't care that you just dropped out of our lives? That for two years I wouldn't feel guilty every time the Bellas asked about you, because I knew that I was the reason you weren't keeping in touch with them?"

It wasn't Beca's intention to make Chloe feel guilty, but the sobered look on the redhead's face told Beca that there was actually some truth in her words. "I never wanted you to feel responsible for anything," she said apologetically. "Ironically, that was why I left when things were normal between us; I didn't want you to overthink my reasons. And I'm sorry if it seemed like I distanced myself from you. It wasn't about what happened—at least not toward the end. I just didn't want to go back to that life, you know? To who I was before."

"So what, you thought keeping in touch would hold you back?"

Chloe shook her head slowly. "Beca, the Bellas meant _everything_ to me back then," she said. "A cappella was _my life_. It just goes to show how shallow and naïve I was—that the Bellas were the highlight of my college experience. So, after living in the real world, I needed to be sure that everything I went through would stick, that _this—" _she gestured around herself and Beca assumed she meant her newfound passion "—is what I truly want in my life. This is my world now. Going back is not an option."

Beca repeated those last six words in her head. "But you'd still _be_ in New York—"

"It's not about the place, Beca. Or the logistics. It's the feeling."

For the second time in her life, Beca felt the sickening feeling that she was losing Chloe. "I want us to be friends," she said quietly. Desperately. "You mean so much to me, Chloe. Please."

Chloe could neither look at her nor give her a straight answer, Beca observed, given that she merely asked, "Do you want to know why I'm fine settling with one-night stands, Beca? It's because, on a scale of the most meaningful things I could do in my life, it turns out that relationships rank pretty low. History proves that I just suck at it," she added with a mirthless chuckle. "It's not worth putting my heart into it anymore."

It still wasn't a straight answer and after two years of being avoided—not to mention putting her heart and dignity out in the open—Beca thought she deserved at least that.

And Chloe must have thought so, too. "I'm sorry, Beca. You don't feel like home to me anymore. So it might be best that we end things here."

* * *

_**Flight from JFK to ATL – April 2014**_

"I've been afraid to ask, Cap, but you're starting to worry the other girls," whispered Fat Amy after she settled into the seat beside Beca's. "You've been quiet all morning. What happened with Chloe last night?"

Beca spared her a glance before turning her head to the side and staring out the window at the plane's wing. "She asked me to apologize for leaving abruptly."

Fat Amy nodded slowly. "For last night or—?"

"Forever. She's pretty much done with us."

Fat Amy couldn't have hidden her surprise even if she tried. "No kidding? Wow…"

Beca had been struggling all night to reconcile her feelings; on one hand, she felt that she deserved to be dumped just like that. After all, she didn't give Chloe a chance when she had offered her whole world that night, so why would Chloe have given Beca the chance to be part of her new one last night?

"… maybe it's for the best…"

But on the other hand, Beca felt it was unreasonable for Chloe to assume that she couldn't have both, that she could still follow her passion and keep her friendship with Beca.

"… both move on…"

Beca wasn't listening to Fat Amy's rationalization. With a clearer head than she had last night, Beca was able to properly determine that Chloe _was_ being unreasonable. She attributed her suspicions to denial at first but perhaps there really was a case for finding Chloe's argument invalid.

_I didn't have to close up and stop loving… Going back is not an option._

Why was Chloe contradicting herself? How had she learned to give more love yet was unwilling to love the things she used to love?

* * *

_**London – Late December 2013**_

"I know we've survived without water for three days in Cambodia but right now I'd kill for a nice, hot bath," groaned Chloe, leaning against the white walls of the hallway.

Luke chuckled and turned the key. He opened the door to his London apartment and breathed in the familiar and comforting smell of his man cave. By the time he opened his eyes Chloe was already pulling out of her sweater.

"Hey, you got any bath salts?" Chloe called from the bathroom, her voice echoing against the walls.

"What do you think?" Luke called back as he prepared to sink into a chaise lounge. Then he suddenly remembered that his phone had died and went to his room to charge when he saw something on his desk.

He checked the bathroom and saw that it was empty. The tub was still filling up so he assumed Chloe was in the kitchen fixing herself a drink.

"Hey, can you help me out?" he asked, finding Chloe indeed in the kitchen. "I came up with this perfect line in the story, but I can't seem to find a place for it."

Chloe broke off a Toblerone piece and popped it into her mouth. "Is this the one about the bird?"

"Uh, no, it's actually a new short story I'd been working on," Luke said evasively. "It's really simple. There are three characters and they sort of get into a… complication."

"A complication?"

"They got kicked out of a pub."

Chloe seemed amused. "Okay…"

"Now, one of the guys… er, his name is _Ollie_—it's short for 'Oliver'—gets angry and says this wouldn't have happened if—" Luke internally cursed himself "—_Beckett_ had just ordered their drinks like he was told to and not mixed them up on his own."

Chloe's eyebrow twitched.

"This scenario leaves _Joey_ in a tough spot—just hear me out," Luke raised a hand to preemptively silence her protest. "Ollie has been Joey's best friend for years but Beckett really has a talent for mixing—_drinks_," he added carefully. "In the end, Joey sticks up for Beckett, because that's the right thing to do—only Beckett's already had enough. He mocks Joey for thinking his opinion actually makes a difference in Ollie's decision to kick Beckett out of the group.

"Some time later the owner of the pub lifts his ban and agrees to let the boys back in. Ollie and Beckett are still fighting but Joey invites Beckett anyway. This pisses Ollie off because he doesn't like it when Joey doesn't agree with him, but Joey puts his foot down and tells Ollie that his steamrolling is over. As they fight, Joey realizes it's the perfect opportunity for Ollie to, um, _expel_ all his insecurities on Joey so that he can finally get over them. At that same moment, Beckett shows up and all three of them work things out."

Luke leaned back and Chloe pursed her lips and waited a few seconds before asking, "So where's this perfect line you were talking about?"

"That's the thing," said Luke, "I don't know _where_ it is, but I know _what _it is."

He pulled out a worn piece of paper from his back pocket. It was rolled like a scroll and so wrinkled and soft that one could assume it had been rolled and unrolled many times over.

"_I never left you_," he read aloud. "_Even when you hurt me and turned me away, I never thought I would ever be done with you. I never stopped, and will never stop, loving you…_"

Luke rolled it delicately back into a thin scroll and tied it around the stem of a dried up, but otherwise perfectly preserved, yellow rose, which he also pulled out from behind him. "My problem is," he continued slowly, "that I know who says this line, but I don't know whom the character is addressing. I don't know where it fits."

Chloe stared at the rose and the note tied around it for so long that Luke wouldn't be surprised if the world had stopped turning while he waited for her reaction.

"I gotta say, you're on your way to becoming to world's foremost bromance novelist."

Luke disregarded the first reaction. They were at the end of their journey together; he wasn't going to let her go back without closure.

"It could be both of them," Chloe finally said, in a noncommittal tone. "And neither of them. You see, Luke, I learned that loving someone can mean anything it wants to be. It can mean… it can mean the serendipity of two people meeting abroad—at an Irish pub or an Indian color festival—and finding in each other the person they were meant to be with. But it doesn't always have to be a _romantic_ kind of love—"

As much as Luke hated to interrupt her, he knew he needed to. "For the record, when _you_ wrote this two years ago," he cut in, dropping all pretense and holding up the rose in front of her, "you meant the romantic kind."

Chloe drew a breath—almost an irritated sigh—but Luke pushed on, "Look, I understand that there are different kinds of love, I do. But I'm asking you not to assume that you can eliminate one to make another more potent. There is still merit in loving romantically. The way your parents feel about each other—the way I feel about Adi—it's an experience I can't even describe. It has changed my whole world, Chloe, and it breaks my heart to think that you've given up on that feeling."

* * *

_**Flight from JFK to ATL – April 2014**_

_I needed to know that everything I went through would stick._

Beca was still hard at work rifling through Chloe's statements last night. Could it be that what Chloe had meant by 'everything I went through' wasn't just her experiences around the world? There was no acceptable reason she would want to cut the Bellas from her life altogether just because she was worried she'd return to being 'shallow and naïve'—which, Beca believed strongly, she never was. It was just too flimsy an excuse to stop being friends with _all_ the girls…

_It's not worth putting my heart into it anymore._

What was 'it,' exactly?

_You don't feel like home to me anymore._

Beca leaned back in her seat to get comfortable as she approached what she felt was the truth about Chloe's pronouncements. Chloe couldn't have decided to push the Bellas away for fear it would lead to her going back to a less noble lifestyle; the Bellas were hundreds of miles away, they wouldn't have been deeply involved in her life anyway. Chloe would have known that.

She pushed them away because she wanted to move on from her past, which meant—

_It's not about the place_… _It's the feeling._

—the feeling.

"She's still in love with me."

Fat Amy clamped her mouth shut—Beca wasn't aware she was still talking—and looked Beca in the eyes nervously, as though worried she was having a mental breakdown. "You said she wanted to be done with us," she said slowly, "and what you got from that was… that she loves you?"

"She was lying," Beca said simply. "She was doing that thing, you know, ripping the bandage off quickly."

"Beca, I _really_ tried last night to get her to see that you still cared—and I thought it became obvious after you dedicated the evening to her—but if she still wants to end things between you two despite that… maybe you owe it to her to actually end it."

"But she loves me," Beca repeated, as though the next step was obvious.

"So?" Fat Amy threw her hands up. "She loved you two years ago and you didn't do much about it—no offense," she added with a grimace. "What's so different about this time?"

Beca looked at her. "Things have changed."

* * *

_**Chloe's Apartment – June 2014**_

"You all settled in?"

Aubrey turned away from the wardrobe and smiled at Chloe standing by the doorway. "Just about, thanks," she replied, then waved a hand toward the window. "Spectacular view, by the way."

"I know, right?" Chloe walked and put an arm around Aubrey's shoulders as they faced the large windows. "How often do you get to wake up in the morning to be greeted by the magnificent view of a deli?"

"It's a dream come true," laughed Aubrey. She snaked her arm around Chloe's waist and sighed contentedly. "So, we're living together again. I mean it's just for my summer internship but still…"

"And who knows? In a year's time you could be working at the UN for real," Chloe said proudly. "And then it'll be just like old times again."

Aubrey looked at her. "Not exactly," she said. "Things have changed after all."

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

**Two months later...**

"They have," agreed Chloe.

Aubrey poked her head outside her bedroom door, halfway through putting on an earring. "Sorry, did you say something?"

Chloe pointed to the phone against her ear and mouthed, "Work."

Aubrey disappeared behind the door again and Chloe paced up and down the living room. "Okay then, it's decided. I can meet the client on Tuesday. Peej can do the paperwork this time… But he dumped them on me last time!" She checked the wall clock when the smell of Aubrey's perfume reached her. "I gotta go, Troy. I'm heading out to dinner with my roommate. It's her last night in New York."

After Chloe had ended the call, she glanced down at her phone to see two notifications: one unread message on her personal e-mail and a video message on Snapchat.

Chloe smiled and shook her head at the one hundred and fifth e-mail from Beca—one for every day that had passed since the ICCAs—sent just a few minutes ago and opened it. Like the other hundred and four e-mails, it was a detailed narration of her day and what she thought about it. Beca's video was a brief scan of the Bellas getting ready for her DJ-ing gig that night, with their well wishes for Aubrey.

Chloe's smile kept growing as she read through the message, up to the last line, which was a sort of signature mantra for Beca and reminder for Chloe at the end of every single e-mail. It was something Beca had written to her in her first ever letter:

"_This, and every other email I shall send everyday, from now until you're finally convinced, is my way of refusing to believe that you've given up, Chloe Beale, because that would mean that I have lost you—that the world has lost one of the most loving people it has left._

_Love,_

_Beca"_

"Ready to go?" Aubrey stepped out of her bedroom.

"Just finished reading Beca's letter," Chloe said and did a double take when she looked up at Aubrey. "Wow. Bree, you look stunning."

"Thanks," smiled Aubrey. "Beca has a gig tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Chloe said distractedly, snapping a quick picture of her roommate while she had her back turned, busy looking in the mirror. "She asked if we could Skype tonight."

"It has been a while since we've seen the little devil," said Aubrey.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "I don't think she meant _that_ kind of video chat..."

"What do you—?" Aubrey blinked. "You and your dirty mind, Chloe Beale!"

"So where do you want to have dinner?" Chloe laughed, pocketing her phone after typing out a quick reply via text.

"Hmm, I'm thinking somewhere super fancy to celebrate my successful final project as an intern," she said jokingly, posing to show off her dress. "I have expensive tastes, you know."

"That's exactly what the muggers will be thinking, too."

(Hundreds of miles away, Beca received a text on her way to the club. She smirked at Chloe's comment about New York City muggers and doubled down with her own joke.)

"Hilarious," Aubrey said sarcastically, bumping Chloe's hip as was joined in front of the mirror.

"Beca thought so, too." Chloe held up her phone, showing her the reply.

"Yeah, well, you two share a twisted sense of humor."

Chloe shoved Aubrey playfully out the door. "It is _not_ twisted!"

"Is too."

"Is not!"

Aubrey held up her own phone. "Beca agrees with me."

"Yeah, well, you two share a twisted habit of messing with me."

"And you love us for it," Aubrey smiled.

Chloe raised her eyebrow. "Actually, I think I got my heart broken for it," she smirked, which effectively shut Aubrey up. But she laughed and gave Aubrey a hug to let her know she was kidding.

"See what I mean?" scowled Aubrey, though the corners of her lips twitched. "Twisted..."

A few seconds later—

"Yup. Beca says that was below the belt."

"Oh, come on!"

**THE END**

* * *

**Response to Reviews: **(To all, sorry for the late replies. This chapter took a lot out of me.)

**BallSoHard** (Mar. 21) - I intentionally did not mark it with any ship because I knew the endgame would be vague. But I suppose I should have at some point. Again, my only defense for Beca &amp; Aubrey is that they were just not noticing.

**jalex1 **(Mar. 21) - Chloe &amp; Luke have a sibling-type relationship haha but you have a point. Beca doesn't know that. But would she be jealous?

**RJRMovieFan **(Mar. 21) - Yeah, I knew it was bordering on unrealistic that two months had changed them into their 'better versions' but I relied on the past events (before Chapter 1) to have made them more open and flexible by then. For Aubrey, she already knew (before Chapter 1) what it was about Beca that she felt a connection to. For Beca, there was still a struggle to come to terms with it, which we saw after Chloe confessed. She made the decision _that night_ to go with Aubrey. So perhaps, subconsciously, she made things work with Aubrey in a short amount of time, to justify that decision. And yup! You were right about Aubrey. The Final Chapter reveals that Chloe didn't give it to anyone haha. She only left it in Luke's apartment before they began their journey.

**Guest** (Mar. 21) - LUKE IS AWESOME! And yeah I couldn't have **_no one_** looking out for Chloe! I'd kill myself haha.

**Reader** (Mar. 21) - Was she screwed? Hmm... :

**Guest **(Mar. 22) - This is the endgame. See my notes at the bottom for an explanation. :)

**Alice **(Mar. 22) - Five months ago I would've said, "I can't believe it's ending, too! :(" but now I AM SO RELIEVED! I've been working on it ever since and it has been so difficult. I'm not even 100% certain this chapter is polished but I just really needed to end this hahaha. It's a good thing you had faith in Beca &amp; Aubrey. :)

**Guest** (Mar. 22) - Intense is just what I intended it to be! Haha. What did you think of the ending? (Triple treble theory is addressed at the end notes.)

**riastefanlim **(Sep. 20) - Here it is!

* * *

**A/N **(with simple analysis)**: **I won't go as in-depth as I did in the previous chapter but if there are enough questions in the reviews then I might post my answers separately. But for now I'll just deal with the interpretations for the ending. EDIT: My thanks to RJRMovieFan for spotting the math error in Beca's number of e-mails. I hadn't realized I moved it to the end of summer instead.

But first the _Change in POV:_

I always intended it to be in 3rd-person at the end because I wanted the reader to feel _separated _from the characters' inner thoughts (also I didn't want spoilers in certain scenes since I was changing up the chronology). Some emotions and thoughts are still explicit but I made an effort to not show what the characters are 'secretly' feeling and there's a reason for that, which is...

_Ending is purposely vague / open-ended_

Okay, so it's not _that_ vague; at least you know that everything's fine between the three. Aubrey and Chloe got their closure (III); Chloe and Beca got their closure (IV).

The only shocker at the end of IV is that Beca thinks Chloe is still in love with her.

"**Thinks**" because, thanks to 3rd person, we're not sure if Chloe even is. Beca arrived at that conclusion because she couldn't accept that Chloe could so easily cut them out of her life – which could still have a legitimate reason, whether Beca likes it or not. Moreover, we don't know if Beca reciprocates. All she said was that "things have changed" which could mean that she either loves Chloe now, or that she knows how to handle it better this time. (Her mantra at the end of every e-mail supports the second: she says she doesn't want Chloe to give up; but she _doesn't_ say 'give your heart to me, I'll make it worth it.')

All we truly know – from the start to the finish – is that her concern is to have Chloe back in her life. That's all.

On Chloe's side, either Beca was right (which, c'mon, we all think she is) or Chloe honestly just wanted to focus on her new life, which is somewhat _reasonable_ if you think about it this way (the way Beca didn't): Chloe's new 'home,' a.k.a. the place she feels she belongs, is with her work now. Chloe believed that her experiences around the world made her, someone who was already so loving, love something much bigger than a single person, and that feat can take up all her energy – she didn't want to waste it. Besides, it wasn't _just_ the Bellas she was giving up, it was _all_ relationships. So Beca shouldn't have thought about only the Bellas being cut.

In either case, however, Chloe's still moving in with Aubrey for the summer. And that is the other, although much less shocking, shocker at the end of Part IV.

_Why is it shocking? _

Because Aubrey is heading where Chloe is heading. She was inspired by Chloe to do what Chloe would see as_ a noble profession_ _on par with what she's_ _doing_, which means Aubrey has successfully secured a spot in Chloe's life by having that in common.

There's also a lot of **subtext** in Aubrey's scenes – when Chloe mentioned her plan to ask "why Beca, not me?" (it seemed like she didn't want to know the answer), when the bench said, "things that never were and ask – why not?", and when they move in together and Chloe says it'll be just like before, but Aubrey says "not exactly; things have changed after all."

BUT if you choose not to read into that, on the surface Aubrey had only one goal: forgiveness from Chloe. After that, they were friends again and all was well.

_BONUS: Things Have Changed_

Each time the sentence "things have changed" was said by Beca and Aubrey, they "looked at" Chloe. That is a reference to both Chloe asking, "Who's looking at me?" in 'God's Punishment' and my analysis last chapter that Beca and Aubrey just weren't looking at the right time, or at the right things, to notice Chloe's feelings.

_Multiple Interpretations_

I wanted to leave the ending as inconclusive as possible. The original one was more dark and dramatic but that made it feel more like a cliffhanger than an ending. In this one, the ending is happy, and it can be whatever you want it to be:

(1) The obvious one is that Aubrey and Beca are both going after Chloe – finally! But... uh-oh?

(2) Another is that Chloe found herself rewinding the clock to five (two plus three) years ago, when it was just her and her best friend – could things be different now that Aubrey's had a relationship with a girl? Chloe never stopped loving Aubrey.

(3) Another is that Beca is determined to get Chloe back now that she has put her off the pedestal and sees her as human, someone who can benefit from her love. Chloe never stopped loving Beca.

(4) Another is Triple Treble; they realized they never needed to choose between one or the other since there was so much love among all three of them anyway.

(5) And, finally, another is that **no one** is endgame. Chloe remains single while she does what she loves; Aubrey challenges herself with international and human rights law so it legitimately becomes her own thing (not just an inspiration from Chloe); and Beca, seeing that there's still a chance Chloe can love again, does what she can to help not because she reciprocates but because she has always (even before the Chloe confessed) valued someone like Chloe ("the world would have lost one of the most loving people it has left.") Eventually Chloe could love again, and it doesn't have to be Beca or Aubrey. They're just 3 best friends.

Obviously, you are not restricted to these interpretations. The only interpretation I didn't leave explicitly plausible was Mitchsen, but only because they were already established in the story so they had an advantage over everyone. If I had more drive and energy, I would have written an even more complicated (and longer) Final Chapter, where a Mitchsen ending could be accounted for. But sadly I don't and I was eager to finish this 2 year old story as soon as possible.

_Final thanks_

I cannot thank each of you enough for reading the story, sticking with it, and feeling a connection with the characters. I hope I stayed true to them and to the premise; this is a story about the ending and beginnings of relationships. Thank you all and have a good week.


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